Black Velvet
by Leelu's skittles
Summary: The Wizarding world; devastated. Lily, her daughter, Remus and Sirius; shattered. Harry Potter? He was kidnapped. Alone, frightened and hurting. Now, not so much. Slash noncon torture under aged relationship etc. M
1. Abduction

_Disclaimer: If I owned harry Potter, small children would be banned from reading and watching. Also, it would probably be sold in Adult stores, rather than your local book store. _

_**Warnings**__: Slash/Yaoi, torture, rape/non-con, sex with a minor_

_You know, I really should be working on my other story…_

--

Albus Dumbledore looked down at the crib that held two fraternal twin brothers. One was William James Potter, the elder twin, and the other Harry Regulus Potter, the younger twin. He remembered after the twins had been born and their names had been announced. Everyone had asked James, 'why Regulus?' and he had shrugged. Lily had named Harry and he had named William, which had been his father's name. Lily always shrugged off the question, her eyes flicking to Sirius. Dumbledore had always wondered if maybe ... but that was preposterous.

Lily just probably felt bad for Sirius, his younger brother was missing and presumed dead. Regulus was a nice wizarding name, after all. Dumbledore had been at their christening, a muggle thing. He'd watched as the twin boys were baptised, smiling politely at the strange culture. He was also there when the boys had their first Imbolc, Ostara, Beltane, Litha and Samhain. Now on their second Samhain, which Lily called Halloween, and he had to choose which one would be thrust into the limelight.

And which one would continuously be discarded and forgotten in the wake of their brother. He frowned as he looked the boys over for any sign that they had defeated Lord Voldemort. One done in neon, flashing and with an arrow would help. But alas, the only thing that marred their soft flesh was a scar. One each. Both were different and in the shape of a curse mark. He sighed and narrowed his eyes on them, as if by doing that they would give up their secrets to him.

One had a lightning bolt on his forehead and the other had a half circle, upside down, burnt into his shoulder. They were lying next to each other peacefully and the elder one, William, reached out and grabbed his younger brothers hand. Harry turned into him and drifted off to sleep. The twinkle re-entered Dumbledore's eyes as he walked around the crib, inspecting them from all angles. Walking the path of fame and glory was always harder and perilous when travelled alone.

He walked forward and picked both of them up, cradling them gently in their arms. He walked out of the room and downstairs to where a pale Lily Potter, angry Sirius Black, worried James Potter and growling Remus Lupin were sitting. Remus stopped mid-rant and turned to Dumbledore. "Well?" Lily asked and Dumbledore smiled. "May I present the Boys-who-lived." He said, smiling benevolently. "Using their combined power, and their ultra special twin bond, they have defeated the dark Lord Voldemort." He said and the four sitting in the room flocked to him and the children.

It wouldn't do to be wrong, after all.

--

The ten year old Harry Regulus Potter was playing in the garden, talking to the pretty snake. His Mummy had taken Billy up to the house so he could get their brooms, they were going to play, and Harry was using the time to talk to his new friend, Snake. She didn't have a name and he was trying to think of one. She'd already rejected everything, though he didn't see why. Snaky was a good name. Her tongue flicked out and Harry cocked his head to the side as she looked alarmed. _:__Call to your mother, hatchling! Run!:_She hissed urgently and he turned around, only to be back handed across the face.

Harry was out, unconscious, from the force of the blow. His attacker stunned him anyway, just to be sure. Harry was taken far away from Godrics Hollow, the supposedly impenetrable safe haven and permanent residence of the Potter family. The man reappeared half way across the continent, on a small dirt path. He carried the boy through the wooded area and towards an old dilapidated house. Corpses of snakes littered the ground, long since dead. On the front door was the skeleton of a snake, nailed to the door. As the door opened, the skeleton collapsed and only the nailed through head remained.

A day later Harry awoke in a cold dungeon cell. Shivering, the cold quickly invaded his small body and settled deep within his bones. Water could be heard dripping from some other part of the dungeon and Harry looked around. He couldn't see anything outside of his cell, the darkness being too complete. Harry quickly scooted back into a corner, curling up into a ball to conserve heat. He spotted a blanket and wrapped it around himself. The blanket was cold, but not wet or damp.

Harry was unsure as to how long he sat in that corner, curled up and frightened out of his mind. Harry wasn't a fan of the dark, it scared him. But normally his Mummy would have the night light on for him, and she would sit with him until he fell asleep. But he couldn't see his Mummy or a night light anywhere. There was a noise, a deep scraping noise, and Harry whimpered. He still couldn't see anything, so he looked harder. A bright light filled the dungeon and Harry was blinded by the sudden change. The door was shut again and Harry could hear light footsteps.

The sound reverberated around the room, bouncing off walls and making Harry curl up into himself again. As the footsteps came closer, the acoustics seemed to stop playing tricks. But, to Harry, that sounded worse. The footsteps were sharp, and Harry felt like he was going to die. The sound was so final. Suddenly the footsteps stopped and Harry looked up. He couldn't see anyone there, but somehow he knew he was being watched. A face appeared from the gloom and a man leant against the bars, eyes wandering over Harry. He sneered.

"So, you're one of the brats that defeated my master?" It was a rhetorical question. He knew that this was one of the brats; he'd spent the last nine years searching for a way to steal one of the boys away and kill. He'd finally figured a way to bypass the wards and get into Godrics Hollow, it had been his first day of watching the family when the woman had taken one of her disgusting spawn back to the house. One of the children, Harry, was left alone. The garden was closer to the edge of the wards than the house. It had been risky, but nine years had taken most of his patience.

But, it had paid off. Right now, the wizarding world was in a panic. One of their precious saviours was missing, a nationwide search was being conducted which would, no doubt, expand to the whole world once they couldn't find him. And they would _not_ find him. Because right now Harry Regulus Potter was sitting in one corner of a dungeon cell, frightened out of his mind. The house was warded, better than Godrics Hollow, and not even an ant would get in.

"Pathetic." He spat at the boy, satisfied when the boy flinched back at his harsh bark. Harry had tears in his eyes, the man was frighteningly familiar. But different. Too different to bring any comfort to the small boy, rather it just made his fear worse. Harry took a deep breath and opened his mouth, before shutting it and taking another breathe. He scrunched his eyes up, steeling his resolve, before looking up at the man again. Harry had been told about Death Eaters, but he'd never been one to judge. Harry thought the best of everyone; he still had hope that the Death Eater in front of him would let him go home.

"Can-can you let me go, sir?" He asked politely, even though his voice was meek and almost inaudible. He laughed; it was a cold, harsh sound. His voice was actually quite nice. It was silky, but rough at the same time. There was also a hardness to the voice that scared Harry. "My...my Mummy will be looking for me." He said and a malicious grin was seen through the darkness. "No, she's not." He said. Your Mummy isn't coming. Neither is your Daddy. Didn't anyone tell you? They don't care." He said and Harry scowled, shaking his head.

"They've better things to do that think about _you_. To them, you are nothing." He said and leant forward, head pressing against the metal. "They practically _gave_ you to me. Your Mummy could've given me you, or your brother. But she took him inside instead of you, leaving you to me. She doesn't love you, doesn't want you." He paused, trying to think of something else to say, something that would wound a child. "She and your father love William, your brother, more than you." The Death Eater was well aware of how much _those_ words could slice through a heart.

"Oh, but don't cry little one." He said, his grin getting even wider. He looked like the cat who'd gotten the cream, with the canary as an after dinner mint. "I'm going to take care of you from now on. We're going to have so much _fun_." Harry, even though he was just a child, had an idea of exactly what type of activities the man before him considered fun. After waiting a few minutes, building the suspense, he flicked his wrist. The cell door unlocked and he stepped inside.

Two steps and the cell had been crossed. The man crouched down to be level with Harry. Ice blue eyes, slightly crazed, bored into frightened green. His canines were elongated, and Harry wondered if it was natural of wether he was a vampire. Harry hoped he wasn't a vampire; Padfoot had told him all sorts of horrible stories about vampires. A large hand reached up and caressed Harrys cheek. He was surprisingly gentle, and Harry realised that his cheek had been throbbing. He only noticed because the fingers rubbing against his cheek and jaw bone soothed the pain.

The hand reached up and carded through thick ink black hair. Harry wondered why he was so scared before, this man was nice. His Mummy would do something similar. But there was something different in the way they did it. Harrys eyes slid shut, quickly giving in to the calming gesture. He missed the malice in the mans gaze, probably because he'd never seen the emotion before. People were always nice and kind to him.

"Harry?" The man asked. His voice was softer than it had been. It still reminded Harry of something silky but rough, although without the steel behind it Harry found it quite comforting. Harrys eyes fluttered open so he could look into the intense orbs. He had a feeling that it was important. "I need you to answer me truthfully, Harry." He said as his other hand rested on the soft chin, gently tilting the Childs head up so Harry was looking at him. His lips tilted into a soft smile and Harry smiled back. He was exhausted. He wasn't equipped to deal with such terror. He was, as some would say, a lover not a fighter.

"I need to know, do you want to play games with me?" He asked, making sure that he didn't grin. He knew that when he grinned, he looked insane. It was a combination of the fangs in his mouth, the hate in his eyes and how big his smile could actually get. It was quite good for intimidation, but terrible for talking with children. So he kept his lips together, tilted softly at the end. He was glad it looked more like a smile than a smirk.

His efforts were rewarded as Harry nodded, smile becoming larger, more child like. Harry was now convinced that he'd been over reacting before. _It was just the dark, _he thought_, that made him look so menacing._ One hand continued to card through his hair, extending down to stroke his neck a bit before carding through his hair again. The other hand was still on his chin, but he moved to caress the childs lips with the pad of his thumb. The Death Eater was surprised at himself. This was the single most intimate thing he'd ever done, and it was to a pre pubescent child.

"I need you to say it Harry. I need you to say that you'll play games with me. I want to play with you for the rest of your life." The wording of the last comment escaped Harrys relaxed, sleepy mind. He heard what the Death Eater wanted him to hear, rather than what had been actually said. Harry nodded and tilted his head into the caresses. "I promise to play with you forever. All the games you want." Harry thought he knew what had happened. To him, it was obvious.

The Death Eater was lonely. After Voldemorts death, the Death Eaters had scattered to the winds and had not been in contact for fear of being discovered. So it was natural for them to be lonely, Harry thought. Harry was, at the core of his being, a caring person. When other children squished bugs or would run away screaming, Harry picked them up and searched the garden for hours to find the perfect spot for the insect or bug. Harry would spend hours playing a game he hated just so his brother would have fun. It was natural for him to want to help this Death Eater, even though he was kidnapped by him.

The Death Eater, in Harrys mind, was too shy to go out and make a friend. Harry thought that the Death Eater was ashamed of going to Voldemort, which hindered his efforts to find friends. So he, obviously, resorted to getting a friend the only way he knew how. Because Harry was so kind, he had no concept of deception. The long fingers carding through his hair and the hand on his chin, with a thumb caressing his lips were, to Harry, sincere gestures of a human that had spent too much time alone. The insanity in his gaze was written off as despair and Harry wanted to fix that. He wanted the Death Eater to smile. An honest, happy, innocent smile.

So when His soft smile turned back into an insane grin, Harry wasn't concerned. And when the hand stopped carding through his hair, resting on his neck, he wasn't concerned. "Oh Harry." Harry opened his eyes again, looking innocently at the Death Eater. The one he considered his new friend. "You've made me so happy." He said and Harry started to get a bit worried, but pushed it from his mind. It wasn't his new friends fault that he looked so sinister and evil.

Was it?

The hand on the back of his neck moved up and the fingers became tangled in his hair. "But I think that, maybe, you shall regret being so naive." Harry looked confused, until the hand tightened and his hair was used to drag him to his feet. Harry cried out in pain as he was dragged, still by his hair, out of the cell. The mans right hand was still free, allowing him to open the door they came to. Harry, though in pain, noticed that his was the only cell there. The thick wooden door scraped across the stone floor, frightening Harry, and the child was thrown in the room.

Harry slammed into the hard floor and cried out again. The door was locked and Harry was hauled up, thankfully by his shirt this time, and slammed down onto a metal table. The table had restraints and with a disturbing amount of proficiency, the Death Eater had Harry strapped down by his wrists and ankles. One finger was dragged up the sole of one of Harrys feet, making the child shudder.

Harry watched as his capturer walked over to a cloth covered table. The cloth was dropped to the floor and a variety of knives and other sharp, dangerous and pointy objects were revealed. Harrys eyes went wide and he swallowed nervously. "Would you like to know what game we're going to play?" The voice was mocking and Harrys eyes welled with tears. He'd been tricked, taken advantage of. The man picked up a relatively small knife and turned to Harry. The blade, Harry would find out in the years to come, was pure silver. Even in the dull light, it shone like a star.

He advanced and Harry tried to run, but couldn't because of the restraints. So he tried to make himself smaller, a defence mechanism. It didn't work. Harry whimpered as his shirt was cut off, and then screamed as the knife slashed into him. Blood dripped down his body as the cuts, stab wounds and slashes accumulated. His dark red blood soon covered the entire table, dripping down and onto the floor. Harrys screams were enhanced by the acoustics of the dungeon room, a symphony of pain heard by only two people. One, who was in too much pain to realise that he was even screaming, and the other delighting in pained screams coming from the ten year old and tried to appeal to his nonexistent mercy.

Finally he finished and Harry thought that his life would be ended. But the man produced a wand and the almost fatal wounds on body healed up. Harry felt like he was devoid of skin, having only scabs to stop his blood and organs flowing out. The Death Eater smirked. He could make a man die for weeks before he ended the pathetic life he was in charge of. He released the bonds tying Harry down but the boy was too exhausted to move. The man licked the blood off the knife before sitting down in a chair Harry hadn't noticed in his panic earlier.

Sitting down, he cleaned the knife he'd used, placing it back on the tray. The cloth went back over and hid the weapons from view. The room was once more just another room in a dungeon. If you ignored the litres of blood that would be fatal for an adult to lose, let alone a child. Harry was forced up, his body screaming at him to stop moving. The Death Eater forced him back to his cell, a hand sometimes shooting out to poke at one of the tender scabs. But, miraculously, Harry did not bleed. The scabs didn't break and Harry was glad. He didn't want an infection. He was pushed back into the cell he'd woken up in.

"I hope you had fun." The man said as the door slammed shut. "I know I did. I can't wait until we do this again. Til tomorrow." He said and retreated. This times, Harry did not listen to the ominous footsteps, and forced the maniacal laughter out of his head. He headed back over to the corner and pulled the blanket around his shivering form. Tears leaked down his face as he sobbed as quietly as he could, even though he'd already heard the screeching and loud bang that Harry assumed was the door to the dungeon.

"Mummy." He whispered into the still, quiet air of the cold, unwelcoming dungeon. "Why did you let him take me?" He sobbed, ignoring the pain as he wrapped his arms around himself and buried his head into his knees.

-- --

_**Hi! This chapter was originally supposed to go for longer but I have a challenge for anyone reading this! Can you guess who the mystery Death Eater is? Yes? No? I was just curious so I cut the chapter off at what is now the end, and then I had to go back through and change it so I made sure I didn't accidentally write the kidnappers name and then paragraphs, and whole scenes, had to be changes to accommodate the different wording. Actually, I'm starting to think that it was more trouble than it's worth...**_

_**Belated Happy New Year!**_

_**Leelu. **_


	2. Say my name

_Disclaimer: If I owned harry Potter, small children would be banned from reading and watching. Also, it would probably be sold in Adult stores, rather than your local book store. _

_**Warnings**__: Slash/Yaoi, torture, rape/non-con, sex with a minor._

_I was going to update this sooner (As it's been finished since about a week after I posted the first one) but I was wary of actually posting it on the site. But I'm throwing caution to the wind! And the story won't leave me alone. Also, I probably should've guessed it was obvious. I am, after all, so unbelievably unsubtle it's not funny. If even my friend, who hasn't read past the third book in the HP series could guess correctly, then it's obvious._

--

Harry looked up as the footsteps stopped. It had been months, but Harry didn't know that. All sense of time had been lost to the darkness. Sometimes Harry would get to sleep, only to be woken up what felt like minutes later. Other times he felt like he'd been forgotten for days. The door was unlocked and Harry was dragged out again. Strapped to the table, Harry made a decision. He'd once read, in a book that he'd borrowed from a muggle Library, that some people hurt others because they themselves can't feel or express pain. So they take it out on people, the screams representing their unvoiced cries. So Harry decided not to scream. Then, hopefully, the man would stop.

The torture started, but Harry did not let a single sound escape his mouth. It went on for hours, getting more and more vicious, and the knives piercing deeper and deeper. Finally it stopped. With a flick of his wand, the leather straps released. Harry was shocked. It had worked. A smile worked its way over his face. That meant that it was _over_, he could leave. A deep chuckle was heard from above him. The man swept the hair away from his face, shoving it behind his ears and leaving blood on his face. He picked up the four largest knives on the table and moved back towards Harry.

The child tried to move, but his body was too exhausted from the previous torture. Harrys breathing quickened, his eyes flickering everywhere. The man stopped next to the table and Harry tried to curl up into a ball. A hand stopped him. Harry winced. The fingers dug deep into a gouge that had been cut deep into his side. One of the knives glinted in the darkness. There was a whooshing sound and suddenly the knife was embedded into Harry shoulder blade. Harry cried out, screaming. The knife had pierced all the way through. Harry was now pinned to the table.

Another sound and the second knife was in his other shoulder, coaxing more petrified screams from the boy. Another knife went through the left side of his pelvic bone and the last knife took the right side. Harry was screaming continuously, delirious with pain. He was vaguely aware of the normal knife making an appearance. The knife trailed down the side of Harrys face, leaving a trail of blood but not cutting the skin. Harrys screams quieted as his throat became raw. It had become more painful to scream.

"Will you ever keep your voice from me again?" He asked quietly, his voice filled with a darkly amused tone. Harry tried to shake his head, but the knife was placed on the underside of his chin and prevented movement. "Will you?" He demanded, knife digging in. "No Sir." Harry whispered and He nodded. "Excellent. Good boy." And with that, he slashed the knife across Harrys throat. Blood rushed out of the even cut, making Harry gag and jerk as blood poured down his wind pipe and filled his lungs.

Everything faded to black, with the last thing Harry saw being the satisfied face of his torturer.

--

It had been a year since Harry Regulus Potter, the younger of the Potter twins and saviour of the Wizarding world, had mysteriously disappeared. The wizarding world had taken the loss hard, one of their beloved saviours kidnapped from his own backyard. Searches were organised, practically the entire continent was searched but still Harry remained missing. Public moral was low, but there was still the other saviour. William James Potter, the elder twin, became one of the two things talked about.

William became the shining beacon of hope for their world. And, though he was upset by the disappearance of his brother, he liked the attention. When Harry had still been with his family, he was hardly ever in the spot light because Harry didn't like the attention.

The press respected the wishes of their youngest saviour, for fear of an enraged public, and stayed away from Harry, only occasionally getting photos on special occasions. William, however, absolutely loved the attention, soaked it up like a sponge, but he was always supposed to be by his brothers side. It felt like absolute heaven now that Harry had disappeared. There was even more public adoration of him, with more demand for photos and interviews.

There were many, many sightings of Harry. And every time there was an article about it, the interest in William spiked again. And William always looked good, the press painted him as a hero who stepped forward heroically, despite the tragedy, and alleviated the public's doubts. Harry was painted as a martyr who sacrificed himself for the public, too young to have died fighting for his country. Even though there was absolutely no proof that he was dead, or even suffering. Theories of what happened the day of his disappearance abounded, one of the most popular being that a hoard of Death Eaters broke in and Harry fought them off to save his family, before one escaped. Harry chased him down and exited the wards. He was ambushed and kidnapped by Death Eaters then and died heroically for his people.

William received his Hogwarts letter, and the press had a field day when it was discovered that one was also sent to Harry Potter, though it returned unopened. The public was, once again, enthralled with the mystery of Harry Potters disappearance. Sightings again became a regular occurrence and whole sections of papers and magazines were dedicated to the Potter twins.

The entire ordeal was stressful for Lily Potter. Harry had always been her favourite son, no matter how much she denied having a favourite. He was quiet, sensitive, happy and just a beautiful child. And every time there was a sighting, she would personally go and check it out, only to return home devastated that her boy wasn't found. James Potter, however, was of the same mind as William.

The fact that James didn't seem to care about the disappearance of his youngest son, drove a wedge between the remaining Marauders. Remus Lupin, who had been closer to Lily than James for years, was absolutely disgusted. The only reason he even saw James anymore was because he was visiting Lily. James, however, wasn't too concerned with losing Remus as a close friend. In fact, he barely noticed the absence of the werewolf. Because he still had Sirius Black, his brother in all but blood.

But Sirius was getting pretty fed up with James as well. Sirius had, under protest, grown up and matured. Becoming more of an adult had forced him to realise that James was still a child. And a child who'd let his sons fame go to his head. He didn't accept responsibility for what he'd done, pranks were still at the forefront of his mind (along with Quidditch) and Sirius was astounded. He'd assumed that with the kidnapping of his youngest child, James would be devastated.

His callous response was '_Lily can have another child._'

And she did. Five months after Harry Potter was discovered missing, on the fifth of January 1991, Marianna Cassiopeia Potter was born. Looking at Marianna, Lily felt her heart break again. Harry had thick black hair that had flacks of red through it, where as Marianna had blue black hair. Harrys eyes were a bright emerald green, but hers were a peaceful blue green. But Marianna had the same pale skin, the same facial structure and had the same behaviour. Quiet, happy, loving and calm.

Wizarding Briton celebrated the birthdays of Marianna and William every year like they were public holidays, while Marianna, Lily, Sirius and Remus mourned the loss of Harry every day.

--

When Harry woke, he was back in his cell. Phantom pains shot through his body, forcing him to cry out and hold his shoulders and rub at his pelvic bone. Both his hands shot to his throat, pain hazed memories of it being slit were fresh in his mind and he wondered why he was still alive instead of rotting in a shallow grave somewhere. There was a chuckle from the darkness and the door was opened. Harry scrambled back, but couldn't move further away because he had been sitting in the corner.

The man knelt down so he was eye level with Harry and a hand caressed the scab that was healing the wound on Harrys neck. Harry whimpered and the man smiled. "This didn't have to happen, you know." He said and shook his head, standing up again. "Don't ever disobey me again, Child." He sneered and exited the cell, leaving Harry shaking, even though he was not cold.

Months passed, and then it had been over two years since he'd been kidnapped. Harrys memories of the outside world faded. The faces of his mother and father became blurred, the image of his brother became more fantasy than reality. He grew to know his tormentors features better than those of his family. He hadn't been able to correctly remember what his mother looked like since only a few months in captivity. Harry only vaguely remembered what he himself looked like.

Clear blue eyes were burned into his mind. Large, long fingered hands that could turn even a piece of string into a torture device and, on occasion, became deceptively loving would never be forgotten. Thick, straight blue black hair would be pulled into a high pony tail that grazed his upper back, and Harry knew how pieces would start to fall out during the middle of torture. Harry knew that there was one strand that would rest of the tip of the mans aquiline nose and it would be brushed away almost immediately, but a smear of blood would replace it. Black robes were discarded early on, giving way to a loose black top and low slung jeans.

Harry could imagine his face at any time. High cheek bones, an aristocratic nose, thin lips and pale as death skin. His lips would be up turned in a smirk that would be no less suited to The Devil himself. Often Harry thought about the cross necklace his maternal Grandmother had given him and wondered where her _God_ was now. He'd always been told to trust in his faith. But it was impossible to trust what was nonexistent. The real prayers had stopped soon after his arrival; the empty words were purely for entertainment now.

But Harry had a new form of entertainment. After each session, Harry would be freed and the man would sit opposite him and clean all of his tools, even the ones that weren't used. Harry would be too sore and, half the time, barely conscious. So Harry studied the man and tried to figure out his name. Harry went through every name he knew, and made up some new names. But none of the names every seemed to fit the cold man that tortured him. Harry was afraid to ask in case questions were unwelcome, which would result in more torture. Harry still vividly remembered the feel of his throat being slashed, almost in two.

Scars amassed on his body, his skin became some sort of deranged piece of art. The scars were all thin, delicate almost. He grew out of his clothes, his pants becoming rags on him. Harry never noticed that his blankets were regularly replaced, becoming larger and often thicker and warmer. Nor did he wonder why, even though he was only fed two meals a day, he was growing normally. Those thoughts didn't enter his mind, which was often clouded with pain. All he knew was that his torturer was barely a man, more of a monster.

On his thirteenth birthday, Harry was woken up by the door to his cell opening. But Harry was too tired to move, his limbs felt like lead and his body was crusted with blood and dirt. He was, occasionally, washed. Which consisted of cold water being thrown on him. Harry tried to force his body to move, to stand, but it didn't co-operate. Harry would've been hyperventilating as he was picked up bridal style, except all his body wanted to do was relax and Harry was forced to comply, slipping back into sleep.

Regulus Black looked imperiously down at the boy cradled in his arms. The potion that was mixed in with his food appeared to have worked. He shut the cell door behind him as he walked through the dungeons and up stone steps. He opened the door and stepped out into the main house.

It was a two story house, but small. On the first floor there was a kitchen, a dining room and another room that Regulus had placed a grand piano in. On the second floor was a master bed room, an ensuite, a spare room and many cupboards. Of course, it hadn't been like that when he'd first arrived. Dirt and dust had covered every possible surface; the walls were a disgustingly bland washed out grey colour. The entire first floor was one room, as was the second. The ensuite hadn't been there, instead there had been an outhouse. Regulus had hired people to renovate the interior, and now the house was presentable.

The floors were hardwood, the walls were white and the ceilings had murals on them. Paintings of his ancestors and relatives adorned the walls, and the furniture was mahogany. There were silver and green accents everywhere, giving it a Slytherin touch. All in all, the house was presentable. Regulus started to walk up the stairs, careful that Harry wasn't jostled too much in his arms. Even though he was healthy, Harry was too thin. Regulus frowned, making a mental note to correct that.

He opened the door to his room, taking off his shoes. The flooring was shag carpeting. Regulus managed to slip off his cloak as well without placing Harry down. He moved towards the ensuite and placed Harry inside the bathtub. Claw footed with gold engravings on the outside, it was an antique. Regulus shed his shirt and threw it out of the bathroom, a pair of socks following soon after. He picked Harry up again, easily pulling off the scraps of cloth that had once been a pair of nice pants and underwear.

Regulus lowered Harry into the bath once more, propping the unconscious boy against the side of the tub as he turned on the taps. The bath tub filled with water, which was let out almost immediately. The water had turned a murky dark brown colour upon contact with Harrys dirty skin. Regulus filled the bath tub again and picked up a sponge. Gently he cleaned Harry off, making sure that Harry was clean. Using a brush, he untangled Harrys hair. The knots disappeared and Regulus washed Harrys hair as well.

The bath tub was emptied and Regulus towel dried Harry before carrying the child to his bed. The thick blankets and donah were pulled back and Harry was tucked in. Regulus picked up his discarded clothes and exited the room, leaving Harry to sleep off the potion.

--

Harry woke up slowly, the warmth trying to lull him back to sleep. Giving in, Harry was almost asleep before he remembered that he wasn't supposed to be warm. He was supposed to be in a cold, damp dungeon with only a blanket. But there was no hard wall behind his back, or underneath him. He couldn't hear the steady drip, drip, drip of water; instead he could hear the rhythmic breathing of a sleeping person. Instantly, upon realising that he wasn't where he was supposed to be, Harry was awake.

The sudden stiffening of his body woke Regulus up as well. Regulus had been sleeping next to him, above the covers. Harry flinched back as green eyes met blue. A slow smirk spread across his face. Harry nervously noted that he seemed to be naked under the covers, and shifted uncomfortably. The silk sheets felt heavenly against his skin, but the fact that he'd not felt anything but concrete, stone or metal against his bare skin for years made it uncomfortable.

"Hello Harry." It was the first time in a long time that Harry heard his name used. "I've a problem, Harry." He continued and Harry nodded, frightened. "You see, I've become attached to you. It was quite unexpected, I assure you. I always assumed that by this time I would have slit your throat and dumped you body in a ditch." Harry reached up, holding his throat. Regulus reached a hand up as well, caressing the silvery scar that ran across his throat, and Harry pulled his hand back. "Permanently, at least." Regulus amended.

"But something about you just draws me in. I can't explain it." Tears welled up in Harrys eyes. "Please, just let me go. I won't say anything. I won't tell them anything. I promise. Just, please, let me go!" Harry begged but Regulus merely smiled, carding his hand through Harrys thick hair. The hair reached the middle of Harrys back now, being uncut for just under three years. "I can't do that Harry. They don't love you." Regulus said. "James Potter certainly doesn't love you. He doesn't even care that you went missing. William is all anyone cares about anymore. You're just an afterthought. Your mother even had another child. A girl. Marianna is her name."

Harry shook his head, tear falling from his eyes. "No!" He said. "They love me. They would never replace me! Daddy loves me!" He cried and Regulus shook his head. "But they did, and he doesn't. They don't love you Harry.' Regulus leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Harrys forehead. He looked into Harrys eyes, the tips of their noses touching. "Not like I do." He added and Harry frowned, confused. The blankets were tugged away from Harry and Regulus wrapped him up into a hug. Harry struggled against the muscular arms holding him.

"No one will ever love you like I do." He snarled, the harsh sound making Harry shiver. Regulus let Harry go and the thirteen year old fell to the bed. "Cold?" Regulus asked. He leant forward and nuzzled into Harrys neck before he rolled off the bed. "Don't worry. I'll warm you up soon enough." He said. Regulus unbuttoned his slacks, tugging down the zip. The black pants fell to the floor and Regulus climbed back onto the bed, not worrying about his underwear.

Harry tried to back away, but he couldn't go farther than the head board. Harry grabbed for the blankets to try and cover himself, but Regulus threw them off the bed. "Don't worry Harry. I'm going to take good care of you." He said as his eyes hungrily devoured the scarred flesh presented before him. He crawled up the bed, stopping inches away from the scared boy in front of him. He leant forward and pressed his face into Harrys neck. He waited a moment before licking up Harrys neck, nipping his ear lobe. Harry whimpered as tears fell from his eyes.

Regulus moved forward again, taking the weight off his hands. He placed his hands on Harrys thighs, forcing his legs to the bed. Harry had had his legs curled up protectively in front of him and he closed his eyes as that small comfort was ripped away from him. Regulus frowned slightly. "Harry." His voice was hard and Harry opened his eyes to find that Regulus' face was almost touching his own. "I said that I would take care of you, didn't I?" He asked and Harry nodded. "Yes." "Then why are you afraid? Do you think I'm lying?" He asked and Harry shook his head. He knew that tone, it always came before a particularly intense torture session.

"I promise not to torture you again." He swore, before smirking. "Unless you want me to, that is." He said and Harry shook his head. "Relax. This will feel _nice_. So nice, in fact, that you're going to beg me for it." Regulus said and Harry whimpered again. Regulus rolled his eyes, his grip on Harrys thighs tightening. His long fingers dug in, and Harry would find bruises there later on. "What did I say, little one?" He asked, breath hot on Harrys ear. "I said you're going to beg me." He said and Harry nodded. "What...what am I begging for?" Harry asked and Regulus rolled his eyes.

"You're begging to be fucked by me. You can't wait until I'm deep inside you and you're screaming my name." He said and Harry nodded, and then tilted his head to the side, away from Regulus, confused. "But...but I don't know your name." Harry said and Regulus sneered. "My name is Regulus. Now, weren't you going to beg me for something?" He asked as his hand wandered up, closer to Harrys flaccid dick. Harry cringed. He'd hoped Regulus had forgotten about that.

"Please, R-Regulus..." Harry trailed off as Regulus grabbed his dick. "Hmm?" He inquired, as if he was unaware of what Harry was about to ask for. "I ... want ...you." Harry could feel the bile rising up the back of his throat. He'd read about this before, and it was just as sickening experiencing it as it was reading about it. "I-I need you to..." Harry trailed off. Regulus was playing with his dick, and Harry was ashamed to say that it was reacting. He couldn't help it, no matter how much Harry felt like dying.

"What? What do you _need_ me to do?" Regulus asked, an insane grin stretching across his face and showing off the elongated canine teeth. He locked eyes with Harry, cocking an eyebrow. "Fuck me." Harry said, and had to swallow the bile back down. "What was that?" Regulus taunted. "I n-need you to...to fuck me,...Regulus." Regulus smirked. "I know. You need me, need to feel me moving inside you." He smirked and leant forward to suck on Harrys neck. He moved up, quickly attacking Harrys lips. When he pulled back, they were bruised and Regulus licked his lips.

He stopped playing with Harry and removed his underwear. With a quirk of his lips, he leant down and placed a kiss on the tip of Harrys dick before swallowing him to the base. Harry cried out, his hips involuntarily thrusting forward. Regulus pulled back and kissed Harry again. "Why so tense?" He asked Harry and placed his hands on Harrys thighs. With one movement, Regulus had pulled Harry so he was lying flat on the bed. Harry shook his head, trying to slap Regulus' hands away as the elder man spread Harrys legs.

Regulus growled, back handing Harry across his face. Harry yelled in pain, his lip splitting. Harry spat the blood gathering in his mouth onto the silk sheets in an act of defiance and he expected Regulus to yell and get angry, but Regulus merely raised an eyebrow. "Those sheets were Egyptian silk. Very expensive." He said. "You'll have to pay me back for them." Regulus said, smirk spreading across his face as he thrust two fingers into Harrys virgin arse, scissoring them to prepare Harry for his large member. Harry yelled in pain, trying to hit Regulus away from his body. And one of his fists actually connected with the side of Regulus' head. Harry froze.

"I-I didn't-" Harry was cut off as Regulus glared at him. "I was trying to be nice, _you stupid fucking brat_." He snarled. "Now, you can take what I give you." He climbed back up Harrys body, face to face with the teen, one hand being used to prop himself up so he didn't squash Harry. "Don't forget to scream." He hissed before lining himself up and thrusting to the hilt inside Harry. He screamed out in pain as Regulus relentlessly fucked his arse, not giving the inexperienced boy below him time to adjust

Harrys screams tapered off, turning into desperate sobs. He clutched at Regulus' broad shoulders, nails ripping into Regulus' skin. Regulus moaned as the long, jagged nails ripped into him. Harry smeared the blood across his back as he raked his nails down in pain, trying to find something to grip. Regulus used the hand that wasn't supporting his body weight to grab one of Harrys legs and lift it over his hip. Harry cried out, screaming again. Regulus switched arms and roughly yanked Harrys other leg over his hip. Harry was sobbing below him again as Regulus penetrated him further.

"Doesn't it feel good?" Regulus asked darkly and Harry cried harder. It _did_ feel good. Every time Regulus thrust in, the pain left and pleasure shot through Harrys body. That was part of the reason Harry as crying, he didn't _want_ it to feel good. Being raped wasn't supposed to feel good; he wasn't supposed to enjoy it. But it did and he was. The worst thing, Harry thought, was that Regulus knew he was enjoying it; could feel Harrys' erection pressing into his lower stomach.

"Say my name." Regulus ordered and Harry shook his head, clenching his eyes shut. "No!" He yelled and Regulus moaned. Harry was so tight around him, and whenever he shouted, he clenched his muscles. Whenever he was in pain (or pleasure), he tensed. Whenever Harry _moved_, he seemed to get tighter. "Scream my name, then." He ordered. He wrapped a hand around Harrys back, pulling the teen to him and making Harrys erection press into him harder. Harry groaned at the feeling. "No." Harry said stubbornly and Regulus smirked. Harrys eyes widened in fear. That was not a kind smirk.

Regulus unwrapped the legs from around his hips and pulled out. He forced Harrys legs into the position he wanted them to be in. Knees up near his shoulders, being held by Regulus' hands, Harry trembled in fear. Regulus moved forward again, throwing Harrys legs over his shoulders and positioning himself at Harrys entrance. Harry shook his head, trembling as Regulus spread his cheeks wide.

"Please...don't." He begged, becoming limp once more, and Regulus shook his head. "Say my name." He ordered again and Harry bit his lip. "Regulus." He said and Regulus looked at him. "Again." He ordered. "Regulu-" Harry was cut off as Regulus slammed into him, the name turning into a pitiful moan. Regulus continued to slam into Harry, hitting the teens prostate every time and soon enough Harry was hard again, much to his disgust. He felt nauseous as he heard and felt Regulus' balls slapping against his arse. Regulus bent his neck and started to suck on Harrys'.

The boy let out an involuntary moan at the feeling, thrashing his head side to side. Regulus growled and bit down onto Harry hard, at the junction of the shoulder and neck. Harry let out a quiet whine as Regulus started to pump his cock. Harry bucked his hips, tears coming to his eyes again. He couldn't help himself as he felt the pleasure welling just above his groin. His muscles tightened and Regulus' thrusts became harder, faster. Harry moaned again. Regulus continued to pump his length in time with the thrusts, reaching down to play with Harrys balls.

"Regulus!" Harry screamed out as he came, much to his shame and Regulus' glee. Harrys arse muscles clenched almost painfully around Regulus, who threw his head back and came as well, buried deep in the boy underneath him. Tears leaked from Harrys eyes as he felt himself be filled with Regulus' cum. Harry consoled himself with the thought that it was over. He'd be left alone now.

Regulus pulled out of him and let Harrys body drop back to the mattress. He wiped a finger in the cum that had started to leak out of Harrys arse and leant down, licking over the tight hole. Harrys eyes sprang open as he looked down at Regulus. "What? Did you think this was over?" Regulus asked, and then shook his head. "Harry. Little one. We've got _all night_. And then the rest of time." He said resting his head on Harrys thigh.

"Now, this time, are you going to say my name?" Regulus asked condescendingly and Harry nodded his head, tears gathering again. "Yes, Regulus." Regulus nodded. "Good. And are you going to hit me this time?" He asked and Harry shook his head fearfully. "No!" He half shouted and Regulus smiled at the boy. He reached up and caressed the boys face, almost lovingly. "Ready?" He asked. Harrys response was to clench his eyes shut. Regulus took that as a yes.

Regulus got back on his knees and placed his hands on Harrys hips. It was surprisingly easy to flip Harry so he was lying on his stomach. He was far too light. Harrys head snapped around, his eyes were wide and frightened. "Don't worry, Harry." Regulus said, pressing a kiss into Harrys lower back. He pulled Harry up so that he was on his knees, and Harry moved so he was leaning on his forearms himself, so his face wasn't pressed into the matress.

Regulus mounted Harry from behind, his long, hard length was pressing against Harrys arse. The thirteen year old whimpered, ducking his head. Regulus reached around and started to play with Harrys limp dick, his other hand fondling Harrys balls. Harry pressed his face into the mattress, ashamed at how easy it was to make him hard. Regulus placed both hands on Harrys hips in a bruising grip, lining himself up. He thrust in and Harrys muffled yell was heard. Regulus stopped, yanking Harrys head up by his hair.

"Didn't you learn your lesson about being silent when I pinned you to the table?" He asked and Harry nodded frantically. "You did? Good." Regulus resumed his grip and started to slam into Harry again, the boy allowing all of his yelps of pain to be heard. Harry let the tears fall down his face again as Regulus slammed into his prostate, resigning himself to a night filled with pain, humiliation, tears and forced sex.


	3. As time goes by

_Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, small children would be banned from reading and watching. Also, it would probably be sold in Adult stores, rather than your local book store. And this story is clearly marked, has clear warnings. If you are adverse to writings such as this, then there is a convenient back button. Better yet, do not read past the warnings. Hell, don't even click on the story. I, in no way, condone paedophilia or rape. _

_**Warnings**__: __**Slash/Yaoi, torture, rape/non-con, sex with a minor, abusive relationship**__. _

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Harry walked around the house slowly, wincing occasionally as pain shot through his arse. The house was, though smaller than his original house, comfortable. And it was better than the cell in the dungeons. It had been six months since Regulus had pulled Harry from the cell and forced him into his bed, and it had only been in the last week that Harry had been allowed to explore. For the first few days Harry hadn't moved from the room, fearing it was a trick.

But eventually his curiosity won. And Harry was having fun talking to the portraits. They were all nice to him, though a lot of them made crude references to what he and Regulus would get up to at night. The sex was pleasurable, though Harry would never admit it. Regulus knew exactly what to do to make the pain leave and have pleasure crash through Harrys slim body. Regulus didn't have any type of silencing charm on his room, and Harry could be very vocal. Or rather, Regulus' liked him that way.

Harry looked around the kitchen and poured himself a drink of water. Regulus was, apparently, out looking for a job. But Harry secretly thought that the older man was watching him to see if he would run away. Harry drank his water and left the room. He continued his exploration of downstairs, stopping to talk to each portrait he passed

Harry didn't know it, but he'd never run away from Regulus. It wasn't because he had any feelings of servitude, or undying loyalty to the man, rather he had nowhere else to go. The years of Regulus telling Harry that his father couldn't care less about him, his mother replacing him with another child, and his brother thought him an inconvenience had twisted Harrys mind. Harry truly did believe that he was unwanted by his family, and as such wasn't stupid enough to run to nowhere. The best that would get him would be an orphanage; the worst would find him dead in the gutter.

Harry entered another room and looked around. The main feature was a black grand piano, but there was also a fire place, a black leather lounge and a wall filled with books. The piano seat, made of the same wood the piano was, had a cushion on top of it. The fabric was a dark blue, almost black, and Harry ran his hands along it. When he moved his hand one way, the fabric was soft and almost silky, but when he moved his hands the other way, the fabric became rough. Harry laughed. The fabric was just like Regulus' voice.

"What do you laugh at, child?" A deep voice asked. Harry turned to look at the man. He had long hair that looked black, but was probably just a dark shade of another colour, which fell past his shoulders in an elegant manner. Dark jade eyes stared back and Harry gave a little wave. "Oh, I was just thinking that Regulus' voice sounds like that fabric feels. I'm Harry." He added. "My name is Godric, and that material is velvet. Do you know how to play?" He asked.

"No sir, I don't." Harry said and the man smiled. "Would you like to?" He asked and Harry nodded. "Then sit down on that chair and I shall instruct you." The piano was placed so that the keys could be viewed clearly by those who were on the lounge, as well as the portrait. And Harry started his first ever piano lesson, unaware that he would be returning every day for the next few years so that he could learn.  
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Harry opened a sleepy eye as Regulus shook him awake. "Happy fourteen birthday, Harry." The man said and Harry gave a loud yawn. "Is it my birthday?" He asked, tilting his head to the side. He sat up and the blankets slid down to pool in his lap. Regulus was always up earlier than him, and it was a very rare occurrence that Harry awoke to Regulus' presence. But this time, not only was Regulus in the room, but he was still in bed.

Regulus worked as an art teacher at the local school. Harry found it amusing that the man worked constantly with children; especially with his low tolerance of insolence and idiocy. He always complained when he arrived home. But even though it was the holidays, Regulus was still gone before Harry woke up. "Yes, it is your birthday." Regulus pulled Harry back down and snuggled into the young man. "Why are you still here?" Harry asked, confused, and Regulus chuckled.

"Am I not allowed to wish you a happy birthday?" He asked. Harry didn't respond. "I decided that I would spend the day with you. Stay here. I'm going to make you some breakfast." Regulus stood and pulled on a pair of pants, leaving Harry alone in the room. Harry was vaguely disappointed that Regulus hadn't made any advances on him, though he had no idea why he would feel that way. He always hated it when Regulus had sex with him. But every time they were in bed together, they were doing something sexual. The absence of that was confusing.

Harry, after a few minutes, grew bored. He hardly ever spent any time in their bedroom. He was always in the piano room. Godric would instruct him for a few hours, and then Harry would go make himself some lunch. He would return and read a book, before having a long conversation with Godric. Sometimes he'd play the piano a bit more before he went and started dinner. That was his day, and then he'd listen to Regulus before the two would retire to the bed room and Regulus would have sex with Harry.

He always had something to do. So he decided to help Regulus with breakfast. Harry got dressed and headed down stairs, appearing in the kitchen. "Need any help?" Harry asked and Regulus turned to face him, a frown in place. "No. I was going to bring you breakfast." He said and Harry nodded. "I know, but I wanted to help." He said. Regulus rolled his eyes. "Of course you did. Go sit down at the table, you're not allowed to help today. Just relax." He pressed a kiss to Harrys temple and pushed him towards the table.

The table was halfway in between the kitchen and the dining room. Harry watched as Regulus cooked. He hadn't known Regulus could cook, but it made sense. What else had he done while Harry had been in the dungeons, unable to cook for him? But he had filled out a bit with Harrys cooking. He no longer looked half wild, as if he didn't take care of himself properly.

Harry started to drift off as Regulus worked in the kitchen. He was never up this early. The clock said it was six thirty. Soon Harry was asleep in the wooden chair, his soft snores catching Regulus' attention. He turned the frying pan to low and crossed the room. He gently picked Harry up and took him back to bed. He sprinted back downstairs, continuing to cook the food.

Harry was awoken half hour later, once again by Regulus. Harry slowly opened his eyes, greeting Regulus with a yawn. Harry sniffed, straightening up as he smelt the food. "Is that bacon?" He asked, eyes narrowing in on the plate that Regulus carried. The man nodded. "And eggs." He said, placing the plate on Harrys lap before he settled next to the birthday boy. Harry started to eat his food joyfully.

A thought crossed Harrys mind, so he speared his bacon and brought it up to Regulus' mouth. The man blinked in surprise before slowly opening his mouth and taking the bacon off the fork. Regulus chewed slowly as Harry continued to eat; giving him some egg the next time he offered his food. And the meal continued in that fashion, Harry taking a bite then offering some to Regulus.

By the end of the meal, Regulus was smiling. But it wasn't his patented 'I'm evil, insane and about to strip the flesh away from your body' smile. Instead, it was a happy smile. Harry had noticed the smile, which made him happy. The smile was barely noticeable, but it was enough for Harry, who gave up the last of his bacon for Regulus. Once the meal was finished, he took the plate, placing it on the nightstand.

Regulus pulled Harry against his side, wrapping an arm around his waist. Harry cuddled up to him, a slight smile on his face as well. Regulus placed a kiss on Harry head as the teen feel asleep. It was still too early for him to be awake.

Harry yawned as he shuffled down the stairs. It was Christmas morning, and he was heading to cook breakfast. He entered the kitchen, and raised an eyebrow to find a meal already on the table. A small note had been placed on his plate, and Harry sat down.

_Harry,_

_I've gone to town because I need to get something. Enjoy your breakfast, I'll be back soon._

_Regulus._

And, seconds later, Regulus walked through the front door. He smiled at Harry, eyeing the untouched breakfast. "I was wondering if I'd get back before you got up." He said, shaking the snow out of his hair. Harry rolled his eyes and started to eat. "Did you get what you had to?" He asked and Regulus nodded, placing a box on the table. Harry looked at it for a few seconds, before he went back to eating.

Regulus waited patiently, though he continuously tapped his fingers on the table. "What's in the box, Regulus?" Harry finally asked. "Well." He said, pushing the box closer to Harry. "I could tell you, but that'd ruin the surprise. Merry Christmas, Harry." He said and Harry lifted an eyebrow. "For me?" He asked, waving his fork at the box. Regulus nodded. Harry picked up the box and opened it.

Inside the box was a beautiful hair clip. It looked to be made from silver, with tiny black and green stones set in it in an alternating pattern. It wasn't so much a clip, rather than metal in a crescent shape with a long pin that ran from one side to the other, which slid out and was easily reattached. "It's beautiful, Regulus." Harry said, lifting it out of the box. Regulus stood, moving around the table. Harrys hair was just past his shoulders and the elder man brushed it back, taking the piece from Harry and tying his hair back with it.

Harry stood as well, turning to face Regulus, with a bright smile on his face. "Thank you, Regulus." He said and Regulus placed a hand on the back of Harrys neck, lowering his own mouth to Harrys. The teen kissed back, his small hands coming up to rest delicately on Regulus' chest. "I'm afraid I didn't get anything for you." Harry said, a frown marring his features. "But I know something!" He said, pulling Regulus' off to the piano room.

He pushed Regulus gently back onto the black lounge and seated himself on the piano seat. Stretching his fingers, and giving a smile to the amused Godric, Harry began to play. The Raindrop prelude by Chopin had taken him months and months to learn, and apart from 'Deck the Halls' Harry had nothing else to play for Regulus. His face was scrunched up in concentration, but he soon relaxed and forgot that Regulus was even there. His fingers flowed over the keys perfectly, the sound increasing and decreasing perfectly as his headed bobbed to the beat.

Harry bit his lip as he came to the part he always had trouble with, but glided through it seamlessly. Harry smiled as the song came to an end, and he dropped his hands into his lap. Harry took a deep breath, and jumped a bit when hands were placed on his shoulders. Harry had completely forgotten that Regulus was there. Regulus wrapped his arms around Harrys torso, hugging the smaller male.

"That was beautiful." Regulus said and Harry smiled. "I did not know that you played piano." Harry unconsciously leant back into Regulus' embrace. "I've been practicing." Harry said and Regulus nodded. "I noticed." There was silence for a while, before Regulus picked Harry up off the seat and moved to sit on the rug with him. "I always wanted to learn how to play the piano, but I had not the patience or the talent." Regulus confided in Harry. The green eyed teen smothered a smile.

"You have no talent or patience in other areas as well, Regulus." Two sets of eyes were drawn to the portrait. Regulus sneered at the man, whereas Harry beamed. "Godric! How did I go?" Harry asked and Godric smiled at the teen. "You were wonderful, Cerva." He said kindly and Harry giggled at the pet name, while Regulus tightened his hold on Harry, and glared at the portrait. Godric sent an amused glance at Regulus, shaking his head. "Was I really?" Harry asked, and the portrait nodded once more.

"Indeed, an excellent Christmas present. But I'm afraid that I have to leave you, for I promised that I would visit a friend on this day. Farewell." He said, before he walked out of his portrait. "Bye Godric!" Harry shouted, as if the loudness of his voice would enable the painted man to hear him from another frame. Regulus continued to scowl at the empty portrait, barely managing to clear his expression by the time Harry looked to him. It wouldn't be a good idea to let Harry know he was jealous of a portrait.

"Why does he call you that?" Regulus asked and Harry shrugged. "Because he thinks I'm a woodland creature? A deer in particular?" Harry guessed and Regulus rolled his eyes. Harry was still naive, even after everything. But Regulus liked Harry that way. Because if he wasn't so naive, then he would realise that he had the portrait wrapped around his finger. And that portrait could go and alert people via his other portrait. That was located in Hogwarts. Regulus held Harry tighter.

Harry turned in the tight embrace, and wrapped his arms around Regulus. Regulus buried his head into Harrys neck, breathing deeply to control his anger. He had, on several occasions, lost his temper around Harry. And every time, it had ended with Harry on the floor after being hit, because of the force of the blow and Harrys lack of physical prowess. And Regulus didn't want to hurt Harry any more, didn't want Harry to flinch when he was touched, or be afraid of him. Regulus just wanted Harry to love him back.

And so, instead of ravaging Harry on the piano room floor, he just held him.

Harry smiled uneasily at Regulus, placing his dinner in front of him. He was uneasy because Regulus was angry. It was Valentines day, and Regulus had been volunteered by other staff members to chaperone the school dance. Harry was confident that Regulus wasn't going to take his anger out on him, but it was an old habit. Regulus ate his dinner in silence, while Harry did the washing up. He wasn't hungry, it was only five and he usually ate dinner later, but Regulus had to attend the dance which started at five thirty.

Harry heard Regulus stand and turned, only to be slapped to the floor. Harry lifted a hand to his lip, which was bleeding. It took a few seconds for Harry to realise that Regulus had hit him. Again. Regulus was yelling at him, but Harry wasn't listening. He could feel his anger rising, and couldn't stop it. Harry had always had his mothers temper, but that was evened out by a very long fuse. But now, for some reason, Harry couldn't control his temper. Every time he tried to push it down, tried to reason with himself, it just came back worse and worse.

Harry stood up, glaring at Regulus' back. The man was halfway across the kitchen, and obviously going for his jacket so he could leave. Harry glanced around and, before he even knew what he was doing, he'd thrown a glass at his lover. Regulus ducked, just barely, and the glass shattered on the wall in front of him. He turned around, his anger reignited and furious. But Harry was just as angry, if not more so. "Did you just throw that at me?" Regulus' voice was low; a sign of impending danger, but Harry ignored it.

Harry reached, grabbed a plate he'd just washed, and threw it at Regulus. And then, they were both screaming at each other, and Harry was throwing every breakable object that he could find. He opened the cupboards and, soon enough, all of their plates, bowls and cups had been thrown and had shattered. The entire floor of the dining room, and a bit of the lounge room, was covered in shards of porcelain and glass. Regulus moved forward, only a few steps separated them because Regulus had moved forward during the fight.

Regulus raised a hand, and he back handed Harry across the face once more, on the other side this time. Again, Harry was sent to the floor. Lacking in physical strength, and a very thin teen, Harry was no match for Regulus. Regulus was a grown man and was a very strong wizard, both physically and magically. Every time that Regulus hit Harry, the younger man ended up on the floor. And this time, glass and porcelain dug into his exposed skin, and tore holes into his clothes.

Harry was glad to see a small cut just below Regulus' eye, which was dripping blood down his face. Regulus looked as if he was going to say something, but just turned and walked to the coat stand. He placed his jacket on, and was almost out of the house, when Harry finally said something. "I hate you." Harry said, and Regulus froze. But seconds later he was moving again, and the door slammed behind him.

Harry picked himself up off the floor, and slowly moved to the bathroom. Using tweezers, he picked every piece of glass and porcelain out of his arms, hands, feet, legs and there were even a few shards that had lodged themselves in his neck. The whole thing was painful, and Harry was bleeding heavily by the time he finished. Harry used a towel to clean the blood off, and slowly made his way to their bed room.

He gently threw himself down on the bed, angry tears leaking out of his eyes. He couldn't understand why he'd been so angry. It was just a split lip, and probably a black eye. And it wasn't like it was the first time Regulus had hit him, it wasn't a big shock. Harry just didn't understand why it had affected him so badly. And, to make matters worse, he was in pain from the cuts all over his body. And, when Regulus came home, he'd have to face him then. Harry winced. Hopefully he wouldn't get taken back down to the dungeon. He still had nightmares about the things that had happened down there.

Harry lay there, unmoving, for hours. He wasn't asleep, but he wasn't completely awake either. Harrys thoughts were swirling around his brain, keeping him from blissful slumber. He had no more tears to cry, and just wanted to sleep. He was so close to sleep, when a thought crossed his brain, jolting him awake and making him sit up.

The reason he was so affected when Regulus had hit him, was that he had feelings for Regulus. The thought tore him up inside, because he knew that he wasn't supposed to have feelings for the man that had kidnapped, tortured and raped him. But he couldn't help it. Regulus was normally nice and kind. He had a wonderful smile and a sexy voice. He bought Harry presents, and left roses on the pillow on special occasions and could be so absolutely sweet. And, when he did lose his temper and hit Harry, Regulus treated Harry like he was the most treasured item in the world afterwards. For the past while, at least.

Harry looked over to the pink rose that was in a vase on his nightstand. It had been there when he woke up, along with a silver necklace with a snake pendant. Harry rolled over and picked the pendant up. Carefully, wary of his wounds, he placed the gift around his neck. The weight around his neck felt uncomfortable, reminding him of the necklace his grandmother had given him.

Harry looked down in shame. What would she think of him? His grandmother had always been so kind, and now he was practically spitting in the face of her god by being so…unnatural. Harry unclipped the necklace and placed it back on the nightstand. He did not want to think on what a disappointment he was. Harry fell back to the bed. It seemed to him that the only person that he didn't disappoint was Godric, a portrait.

Harry rolled over, tears falling onto the pillow, as he thought about his predicament. In love with Regulus Black, a man who seemed to care more about the weeds in the garden than Harry himself. Not only was he unwanted by the man he loved, but also by his family. And he only had one friend, in the entire world, and he was a portrait. Harry sighed, wallowing in misery. His last thought, before finally giving into his exhaustion and sleeping, was about how pathetic he was.

Regulus smiled politely as two of his colleagues approached. One was Bill Thornton, a maths teacher, and the other was Kate Sheppard, an English teacher. The two were close friends, having known each other since childhood, and had made it their mission to make the new art teacher, Regulus Black, fit in. He was, obviously, a loner and was always quiet. He was a good teacher, and incredibly patient with all the children. And Kate wanted to set him up with one of her good friends.

So, when they saw Regulus leaning against a wall and looking sullen and broody, they naturally decided to go over and lighten him up. "Hey Regulus!" Kate said cheerfully, her mousy brown hair bouncing on her shoulders. "Kate, Bill." He said cordially. He was not in the mood for their constant cheer. On a normal day he could barely tolerate it, but he was feeling angry and depressed. They would be lucky to leave his presence without a _crucio_ or two.

"Why do you look so sad?" Kate asked, tilting her head to the side. Regulus looked away from her, the gesture reminding him of Harry. Bill leaned in closer, a frown on his face. "Did you get into a fight, mate?" he asked and Regulus started, glaring at Bill. "I was just curious where you got that cut, is all." He said and Regulus reached up, his fingers touching the cut he got from a shard of glass.

"Oh! Who on earth would want to fight you?" Kate asked, horrified. "My partner." Regulus said before he could stop himself. Regulus could've sworn that their ears perked up. He knew that there was no way, without blowing his cover as a muggle art teacher, that he'd be able to escape them and their curiosity now. "Partner?" Bill asked. He was well aware of Kate's plan to set Regulus up.

"Indeed." Regulus said, cursing his loose tongue. "How long have you two been together?" Kate asked and Regulus thought. He'd abducted Harry when he was ten, and he was about fourteen and a half. "Four and a half years." Regulus said. He would definitely have to twist the details of their relationship, or else he would have to move away from the Little Hangleton because of the muggle police. Which would, inevitably, lead back to the Aurors. And James Potter.

"Really? That long? Did she move to Little Hangleton with you?" Regulus decided not to correct Kate. She didn't have to know that Harry was a boy. "Yes. It was not my idea to move." He said, smile on his face. "Ah, whipped?" Bill asked and Regulus gave a small nod. He had whipped Harry before. "Me too." He said and Kate rolled her eyes. "How long have you two known each other?" She asked and Regulus thought. "Many, many years." Bill nodded, but Kate frowned at the lack of a specific answer.

"What was the fight about?" She asked and Regulus shrugged. "Nothing." She scowled at him. "It couldn't have been about nothing! What did you do?" She asked and Regulus looked away. How did she know it had been his fault? "How do you know it's my fault?" Regulus asked and Kate laughed while Bill sighed. "Every time a man says that fight was about 'nothing', he's the one in the wrong." She said and Regulus shrugged. "I know it was my fault, but I can't remember what started it. I always start the fights."

Regulus sounded so unhappy that Kate instantly wanted to help him. "So, how did you get the cut?" Bill asked before Kate could do something to fix it. Regulus tilted his head back and looked at the ceiling. "I'd just finished dinner, and the little one was washing up." Regulus frowned. "And then we were fighting and he threw a glass at me. I ducked, and shouted at him and then he was throwing all the plates and glass wear and some caught my face." Regulus scowled.

"He?" Kate asked and Regulus swore mentally. He hadn't meant to let that slip, but it didn't really matter. He didn't care what they thought. "Yes. Harry, my little one." He said and Bill chuckled. "You're gay?" He asked and Regulus shook his head. "Gender is insignificant." Regulus said and Kate nodded. "Bisexual then. What does Harry do for a living?" She asked and Regulus shrugged. "He plays piano." Kate nodded. "Artistic people a drawn together." She said, then gave a little giggle at her own joke.

"What does Harry like, what's his favourite colour?" Kate asked and Regulus shrugged. "Blue and silver are his favourite colours. He likes snakes, the piano and his friend _Godric_." Regulus did _not_ like that portrait. "Godric?" Bill asked and Regulus nodded sullenly. "Godric is his best friend. They talk about everything. Godric is the one who taught Harry how to play the piano." He said and Bill cringed. "I take it you don't like Godric?" He asked and Regulus shook his head.

"His interest in Harry is not platonic. If he could, he would take my place in Harrys bed." And Regulus had no doubt that the bloody portrait would do that, if he were an actual person. "Does Harry know this Godric person in interested in him?" Kate asked and Regulus shook his head. "Harry is so childlike in his perception of the world. Everyone is nice and kind at heart, everyone deserves a second chance, and no one lies. Its part of his charm, but it makes him so naive. He wouldn't have noticed that I wanted him if I hadn't pinned him down and kissed him." Regulus said and Kate thought for a second.

"You should give him a gift." She said and Regulus nodded. "I would, but I already gave him the only thing I had this morning for Valentines day." Bill ran his hand through dark brown hair. "What did you get him and what was his reaction?" Kate asked and Regulus bit his lip. "I left a rose on his pillow on top of a box. I gave him a silver necklace with a snake pendant. I am unsure of his reaction because I am gone before he awakes." Kate and Bill thought for a second. "When you get home, you should try and make peace. If he's wearing the necklace, that's a good sign."

Bill nodded. "And try and get him some chocolates. Everyone likes chocolates." Regulus nodded. "What's the time?" Regulus asked and Bill looked at his watch. "Almost eight thirty. The dance'll finish soon." He said and Regulus nodded. "You can go home now, if you want. A few minutes won't matter here." Regulus nodded. "I shall leave now, hopefully I shall reach the shops before they shut." Kate nodded, smiling.

"Good luck!" She called as he walked away. He raised his hand. "Thanks for the advice." He called back and she beamed. Bill chuckled again. "So much for your plan to hook Regulus up with your friend." He said and Kate shrugged. "How was I supposed to know he was in a relationship?" She asked and Bill rolled his eyes. "You owe me ten bucks and a coffee. I said he was in a relationship." Kate rolled her eyes, glad she didn't take him up on the bet that Regulus wasn't completely straight. "Fine."

Godric glared at Regulus as he entered the room. "Harry…" He said, looking at the teenager sitting on the couch. Harry defiantly looked away from Regulus. He had, after waking up, come down to talk to Godric. The portrait always, always helped him sort out his thoughts. So Harry had told him everything, and even things that he'd not remembered ever thinking before. The result was that he was, once again, angry with Regulus. But this anger was more of a dull ache, rather than the raging inferno it had been earlier.

Regulus moved forward and Godrics glare intensified, though it did not distract Regulus. Over the years, the Death Eater had become quite adept at ignoring that particular portrait. Regulus sat down tentatively on the edge of the couch, not too close but not too far from Harry. Godric had been so close to convincing Harry to run away, to head for Hogwarts. His eyes narrowed, if Regulus did one more thing to Harry, he swore he would not keep his silence.

Regulus could not remember feeling so nervous in his life. Except for when he first met the Dark Lord and that one time he dated a Veela. Fingers tightening around the box of chocolates, and gathering as much Gryffindor courage in his Slytherin body, Regulus reached out for Harry. The teen flinched away violently, bringing his knees up slightly.

"Harry, I'm sorry for hitting you. Twice." He said gently, taking his hand back as if burnt. "I know that it won't fix anything, and I wish that it was as easily fixed, but I brought you some chocolates." Regulus lowered his head slightly, lifting the chocolates up in an offering. Harry kept up his silent treatment, turning his head away from Regulus further and turning his body into the couch.

Harry felt a bit bad about the silent treatment, a small part of his brain telling him that some people did have anger problems that they couldn't control. Things like Mania, and if Regulus had it then it wasn't his fault. But another part of his brain screamed Bullshit. It told him that he was just making it up, trying to protect Regulus; but the elder man didn't need protecting.

"I really am sorry, Harry." He took a deep breath. "I don't…I don't want to hurt you anymore." Harry uncurled slightly. "It hurts me to hurt you." And Harrys eyes flicked to Regulus. "And you make me happy, I know that…" Regulus trailed off, his voice sounding suspiciously thick, and Harry swore that his eyes were just a tad too bright. But that didn't make sense, the very idea of Regulus crying was completely and absolutely insane. It had to be some type of ruse.

Regulus Black didn't cry, he made others cry.

"I know that you hate me, and I know that you hate being with me. But I'm too selfish to let you go." Harry waited for Regulus to continue, his body relaxing once more. "I'm trying, I really am, but the only thing I know is how to hurt people." He said and Harry turned towards him fully. Harrys eyes were also suspiciously bright. Regulus flinched when he saw Harrys face. His right eye was puffy and coloured in dark blues and purples while his lip was bloody and split.

"That's not true, Regulus. I know torture isn't your only skill. You make me very happy." Harry reached and placed his hand on Regulus' chin. A smile settled on Regulus' face and he stole Harrys lips in a soft kiss, making sure not to hurt his already busted lips. And Godric snarled, storming out of his portrait. Harry was too nice and kind, too forgiving, too loyal. Even when loyalty was not deserved. When Regulus had done nothing to inspire loyalty, and everything to arouse hatred and treachery.

But Godric wasn't.

It was three in the morning, when they came. The front door was blasted down, and Aurors stalked into the house quickly and quietly. Systematically checking all rooms they came across and checking for the people they knew to be encased in the house. They had received a tip from Albus Dumbledore, who had been told 'Anonymously' that Regulus Black had been keeping Harry Potter in this house for _years_. After a few days of surveillance they had found that, yes, Regulus Black was living in the town as a Muggle. He – a known Death Eater – was a muggle Art teacher. That had been enough for them to break into his house and apprehend him for information concerning the missing Saviour and also the part he played in the War.

But Regulus had not been there. They had finally, after searching the entire first floor, gone up the stairs and found the bedroom. Regulus had not been anywhere near the room, or the house, or even the town. A teen boy, however, was found tied to one of the bed posts with thick chains. He was unconscious, numerous cuts and bruises on his face and blood running down his arms from his wrists.

The child was lifted carefully by the Aurors, and taken to St. Mungo's for emergency treatment. It was only after he had been stabilized, and after they had healed all the wounds they could, that a small lightning bolt scar was discovered on his forehead. Fifteen minutes later Lily, James, William and Marianna Potter, along with Remus and Sirius, arrived at the hospital. Half an hour after that a patient over heard a few nurses talking about how they had found _The_ Harry Potter. Two hours later _The Daily Prophet_ found out and they had their next headline story. The next day, all of the Wizarding United Kingdom was rejoicing at the news of their found saviour.

Especially with the whispers that The Dark Lord was rising again.


	4. Unhappily Reunited

_Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, small children would be banned from reading and watching. Also, it would probably be sold in Adult stores, rather than your local book store. _

_**Warnings**__: General story warnings are in the first few chapters. This chapter, however contains only mentions of slash but has a lot of unfair hate flowing around. _

_Also, sorry for not posting earlier. The reason: I'm lazy. And: This chapter wouldn't flow. Still not my favourite – but now it's up. Also has anyone see the first episode of the second series of Merlin? (I watched it a few nights ago). How awesome was it? I love Merlin! (Both the show, and the character)And you'd think that Arthur would learn to trust Merlin after the first season, yeah? After he drank what could have been poison for Merlin. _

_And can anyone else see the wonderful undertones of Slash? _

_Or am I just weird?_

It was, Lily Potter decided, her fault that her baby boy was lying practically catatonic in a St. Mungo's hospital bed. His skin was paler than the sheets, and he was so much skinnier than William. His hair, such a harsh black against his skin, was spread across the pillow. It was longer than Lily had ever imagined one of her boys ever having their hair. But he was perfect to her. He was her little boy – the youngest of the twins. He looked so fragile, just lying there.

It was killing her.

Sirius and Remus had tried to assure her that it wasn't her fault Harry was in the shape he was. But she knew it was. If she hadn't left him alone all those years ago, placing too much faith in the wards, then he would have been with them rather than in that muggle town where they'd found him. More than that, she was responsible for his catatonic state. The healers had said it looked like someone had forcibly tried to split his soul – 'Forced Horecuxification.' The term had been coined by one of the doctors when they'd stabilized Harry.

Lily had played dumb, but she knew more about it than the doctors did. After years of false reports of Harry, and practically the whole wizarding world whispering that he was dead, Lily finally gave in. She realised that he baby boy was dead. But she didn't accept it, couldn't accept it. So she researched a way to bring her baby back.

Wizarding portraits had spells placed over them. They were stationary while the wizard was alive but spells placed upon them made it so that when a wizard died a small portion of their soul is drawn to the portrait and animates it. Their memories, personality, speech patterns. Basically, it was a Horecux of a dead person. The majority of wizards assume that the portraits are there so that knowledge isn't lost.

But the original, long forgotten, purpose is resurrection.

The portraits were originally a tool of the necromancers. They would make the portraits and attach a recently deceased persons soul to their portrait so that they could resurrect that person for their own personal use. The inferi associated with resurrection in the modern wizarding world are mere shadows of what real necromancers can do.

Lily took out a portrait of Harry from a month before he was taken. It wasn't moving, as Harry wasn't dead, by she ignored the fact in her grief. She had found, in the recesses of the Black vault, a necromancer ritual. Lily asked not to be disturbed, and set herself up in the dungeon of the Potter manor. She had started the ritual to draw as much of the soul to the portrait – which would soon be followed by the ritual to bring her son back to life – when James had burst in.

"_They've found Harry." _

Lily had abandoned the ritual and was at the hospital barely five minutes later.

And now she could see the result of her desperation. The doctors said that it was now all up to Harry whether or not he lived. He had to reattach his soul and ground it. He had to want to live.

"It'll be okay, Lily." Sirius was here with her. James was at work – reluctantly – and Remus was recovering from the full moon. William was back at school, and Marianna was at Hogwarts as well because there was no one else to take care of her.

"Sirius...what if he doesn't want to live? I can't even imagine the things that he went through! What if he never wakes up?" She started to cry and Sirius wrapped his arms around her.

"He's a strong boy Lily. He always has been, there isn't anything that could keep him down. And we don't even know if anything bad happened to him – aside from the attempted soul splitting. He could have had a wonderful time. Been waited on hand and foot." Lily had flinched at the mention of what her ritual did, but chuckled slightly at Sirius' delusions. An eternal optimist – relying on his constant refusal of actual reality and he twisted the facts until they suited him.

The nurse entered and started to do her daily routine. She would enter and Harry would be magically washed and moved to make sure that bed sores didn't appear. The scars that marked his body were clear indicators that Sirius' words were nothing but fallacy. But this time, as she approached him, green eyes snapped open and he glared at the woman.

He would not allow anyone but Regulus near him – especially not a nurse.

Harry held up a hand, stopping the nurse. She raised an eyebrow and Harry glared for a bit longer, before turning his eyes away. Harry scanned the room, stopping on the only man. For a second, Harry's heart jumped as he thought he saw Regulus. But almost as quickly he realised that it wasn't Regulus. The man was obviously Sirius Black. Harry could vaguely remember him from before. He looked like Regulus, though there were deep laugh lines around his mouth and eyes. His skin had a deeper tan than Regulus', his shoulders were broader, eyes a darker shade of ice blue but they had the same high cheek bones and blue black hair.

Harry could see the similarities, though the older brother had shorter hair. Sirius' straight hair went just a bit past his chin and was a mess. Harry wondered if he'd ever brushed it in his entire life. And then there was the woman he was sitting with. Long crimson hair, large green eyes that were shining with tears and the most heartbreakingly hopeful look on her face.

Harry hated her.

The woman who had chosen his brother over him and then replaced him with another child.

"You don't want me to wash you?" The nurse asked and Harry shook his head. He didn't want to talk to anyone. They could make whatever they wanted out of it, but Harry vowed to himself he'd only speak again when Regulus came back for him like he'd promised.

"Well then, young man, you can wash yourself. The bathroom is over there." The nurse pointed to a door. From her expression, it was obvious that she didn't expect him to be able to walk that far. Or even get out of bed. But Harry had endured worse than being bed ridden for a few days. He slipped out of bed and, after waiting for a minute so the world stopped spinning, he walked towards the bathroom.

Harry reached the door, but as soon as he saw the heavy wood he realised that he wouldn't have the strength to push it open. Sirius was at his side in an instant, pushing the heavy door open with ease so Harry could pass through. The teen nodded at him, before the door shut, and proceeded to take a bath.

The nurse stood there stunned. She hadn't expected that.

"What did I tell you, Lily? Nothing can keep him down. He's always been one of the strongest people I know. And that's saying something considering I was an Auror." Lily nodded, a watery smile on her face. Her little boy _was_ going to be all right. Everything would go back to normal. Everything was all right.

_The door to the piano room slammed open and Regulus ran in. Harry had gone down to talk to Godric, but the man wasn't in his portrait – so Harry had started to read. Placing a bookmark in, Harry smiled up at his lover. _

"_Harry, why did you do it?" There was a tightly leashed anger in Regulus' voice, which made Harry uncomfortable. He dearly hoped that he hadn't done what Regulus thought he did. Regulus hadn't yet broken his promise to never hit him again, but Harry didn't want to test it. _

"_Do what, Regulus?" Harry asked innocently and Regulus snarled, rolling his eyes. He took a step forward, and Harry tried to shrink back as unobtrusively as possible. Harry loved Regulus dearly, but he really, really didn't want to be hit. _

"_Alert the Aurors to where we are! They've been watching the house- they're going to come in any minute to take you away."_

"_What! No! I don't want to go." Harry stood and threw himself at Regulus. _

"_Don't make me go – they'll give me back to the Potters. They replaced me! I don't want you to replace me too." Harry looked so pathetic, tears welling in his eyes and the fading bruise highlighting his pale skin, that Regulus lost the edge of his anger. _

"_I would never willingly leave you Harry, and I could _never_ replace you. But I'm a suspected Death Eater, and they want to chuck me into goal. You don't want me to go to goal, do you?" Harry shook his head. If they caught Regulus, he'd no longer be a 'suspected' Death Eater. _

"_Then there's something you have to do for me." Harry nodded frantically, desperate to help Regulus. _

_And so Harry was led up to their bedroom, and Regulus carefully reopened Harrys lip and bruised some more of his face. There was a small, shrill siren that echoed through the house and Regulus cursed. He pressed a kiss to Harry's lips before he chained him to the bedpost. _

_The death eater then ran from the room and down to the dungeon, where there was an emergency portkey. The portkey would get him to a safe house, and then he could find a way to get Harry back. _

_Up in the bedroom, Harry was staring after Regulus. Until he felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his heart. Surprised, Harry almost immediately succumbed to the pain – blissfully unconscious for the worst of it._

Harry was woken from his dream – memory – by the scrape of a wooden chair on rubber floor. Harry looked at the two people sitting before him. James and William Potter – his father and brother. The two were eerily similar. They both had messy black brown hair that made it obvious they both ran their hands through the locks. Chocolate brown eyes, tanned skin, glasses and worn hands were all practically identical.

The both of them looked equally uncomfortable in the formal robes that they were in.

"Hello Harry, you remember us – don't you?" James asked. He was nervous. For years he hadn't been concerned for the welfare of his missing son. It didn't seem to be important, he had to look after William. But recently he had been noticing that almost everyone that mattered to him – Lily, Marianna, Remus and even Sirius – were growing increasingly distant to him. Remus didn't even talk to him, and James could hardly believe that he'd missed it.

That he'd been _unconcerned_ by it.

Something must have gone wrong in his brain for him to have been ignorant of his wife's suffering for so long. But he had figured it out – eventually – and decided to rectify it. James had changed his attitude, miraculously so, in the space of a few months. He was once again the perfect father, husband and friend.

But what James couldn't see was that some relationships were already too far gone to be saved. It would be a while before he realised it as well.

Harry stared at the two of them for a second, wondering what would happen if he shook his head. Finally, Harry nodded. The relief from James was palpable. There was silence and William twiddled his thumbs.

"So, Harry, you can't talk." Harry nodded the affirmative and reached for his bedside table. A nurse, the same one Harry had refused to be bathed by, had left a note pad and pen. She was, more likely than not, a muggle born.

'_**No, I can't talk. Any other observations that you would like to share?**_' It only took Harry a few seconds to scrawl his message across the page, but his hand writing was excellent. William read the response and flushed in anger. Just because Harry couldn't use his tone to convey his feelings of his brothers idiotic statement, didn't mean he was completely helpless. The look on his face was enough.

"Well...do you like to play Quidditch?" William hoped that his brother didn't. He was perfectly fine without a brother to steal the limelight. Sure, he had missed his brother sometimes, but Harry had turned into a sort of mythical figure in his mind. Someone that was only spoken about, never to be seen again. And William was fine with that. But now that his brother was back – did that mean that the press would once again be restricted from going near their family?

Would he have to surrender the spotlight so his brother could shroud himself in darkness?

'_**No. I hate Quidditch. I have many things that I'd rather do than fly around on a flimsy broom.**_' William was astounded. Sure, he didn't want Harry to play Quidditch – didn't want him to be good at it – but to _hate_ Quidditch? No one hates Quidditch. No one he'd ever met, at least.

'_**Is there anything that you two want?**_' Harry held up the pad and they read it, William still confused from his internal reaction at Harry's decision to hate Quidditch. He was glad his brother hated the sport, but wasn't at the same time.

"We just came to talk to you Harry. It's been years since either of us saw you." Harry nodded at his fathers words. Understandable – too bad they were completely false. Harry would have hated his father anyway, but he had heard his mother and Sirius talking while they thought he was still unconscious. About James, and his complete and utter disregard for anything to do with Harry.

'_That bloody man couldn't have cared less about Harry for years and now he's trying to be the perfect father. Pull the other one, mate._' Sirius had said before Lily hushed him. '_Really, Sirius. It's not his fault he thought William was more important. I'm sure he had a valid reason._' Sirius had snorted and started to say something before being shushed by Lily.

'_That's not what you said to me that night when-_' '_Shhh! Anyone could hear you._'

Harry was now intrigued about the real relationship between the two, but not really concerned. From what he could remember, Lily was completely devoted to James. Even though he was a complete dick. But then, she was a bitch as well. They suited each other, Harry thought.

"I'm going to get a drink." William said, and walked out of the room. The door slammed shut and a silence descended. James tried several times to breach the silence, but Harry ignored him. When William returned, several minutes later, there was still silence. The silence continued until visiting hours ended and the two identical Potters scrambled to leave the room as fast as possible.

Harry was pleased with himself.

Harry was released from St. Mungo's two weeks later. He was given a clean bill of health, and put down as the first person to live through a forced horecuxification. The fact that he was the first person to ever experience such a thing probably wasn't going to be mentioned. Lily was given strict instructions that he wasn't to put too much stress on his body and eat healthily. Unfortunately magical means of transportation – apparation, floor and portkey – would put undue stress onto his body.

Meaning they had to drive to Godric's Hollow.

They drove up the driveway towards the house Harry hadn't seen for almost five years and the crowd of reporters was visible. Harry was slightly nervous. He hadn't seen anyone other than Regulus, Sirius, Remus or his _family_ for years. Hadn't been near more than five people at a time for years. Big crowds hadn't been his forte before he was taken – and now he felt slightly scared.

The car couldn't get any closer than a few meters from the gates, the reporters not budging until they got their pictures and interviews. The result was that James had to turn off the car and walk. Harry could feel his hands start to shake as Sirius opened the door and shuffled out. The last time he'd been this nervous was when he went to Diagon alley when he was very little. Harry could remember hardly anything of that trip – only the scary feeling of being lost, being crowded and the nerves as he realised people would always be like that towards him remained.

William stepped out of the car first, smiling at all the journalists. He waved obligingly, and had to fight to stop his expression souring when he realised that not one of them were interested in him. He had the sudden terrifying thought that maybe Harry wouldn't drag him into the shadows, but push him out of the spotlight. The thought was not helped when one particularly bold reporter actually physically dragged him out of the way to see Harry who was just getting out of the car.

Harry smiled nervously for a while, looking awkward and out of place. They were shouting questions at him, the noise building until Harry started to get a headache. Harry felt himself be slowly pushed forward by the crowd of reporters, away from the car. James, Lily and William were all standing off to the side with a man Harry vaguely recognised from Regulus' hateful spiels and his time before. Albus Dumbledore.

And all of them were just standing there, not helping him.

Harry searched all over him for the pad and pen, so that they would realise he wouldn't talk to them (not that he would if he could). He panicked as he realised that he must have left it in the car. He was completely defenceless. He had been taken before they'd gone to buys wands, and Regulus had never dared to take him into the wizarding world. That didn't mean he was lax on theory, but theory wouldn't help him now.

There was a faint rumble of complaints of some of the journalists as someone pushed through the crowd, but Harry wasn't paying attention. He was trying not to hyperventilate. They were too close, and pushing in closer. Crowds were definitely not on his to do list – ever again.

"HEY!" The sudden loud shout startled everyone, and all the journalists stopped. They hesitated and then took a slight step back from an enraged Sirius Black – thankfully meaning they stepped away from Harry.

"Get the fuck away from him! Mongrels!" he swung his arms, forcing the journalists to step back. And the people who weren't within his reach stepped back a bit anyway. The Black temper was famous through wizarding aristocracy, and Sirius hadn't escaped the anger. It hadn't been seen since he was a teenager, but no one really wanted to test whether or not he could control himself when their lives were possibly at stake.

"You all disgust me! He's just been released from hospital and was given express orders not to be under stress. Do none of you remember that you had to stay away when he was young because he was afraid of crowds? You think that being kept in isolation helped? You're all fucking _idiots_." He howled and grabbed a camera of one of the photographers, the click alerting him to the fact that a photo had just been taken. Slamming it on the ground, it shattered into several pieces. Sirius ground it into the drive way with a booted foot, and the camera man winced at the cracks he heard.

"Now, you're all going to leave before I show you exactly why I was forced to leave the Aurors due to anger issues." He whipped his wand out and that, along with the look of intense anger on his face, made the crowd take several large, hasty steps away from the man.

"Leave." The word was a command spoken very, very softly. And the majority of people lost their bowels. It was a very badly kept Black family secret that they all had towering tempers, could fly into rages at the drop of a hat. But it was rumoured, had been rumoured for years, that they were at their most deadly and powerful when they stopped shouting and acted normal. No one had seen it in years – but Sirius Black had just said something that wasn't shouted and it looked like he would have no qualms proving this claim.

There was the extremely loud sound of multiple apparation cracks happening at the same time.

But there was one man still standing there, his knees buckling under the force of Sirius' glare directed at him.

"C-can I have my camera back?" Sirius growled, seemingly have passed the ability to talk, and kicked the pieces at him. The man whimpered as he scooped the sharp pieces up in his bare hands and quickly apparated.

In an unrelated manor, there were many people splinched that afternoon due to apparation under stress.

Once Sirius was sure that there were no more reporters, he stepped away from Harry. Well, he tried to. Harry had a tight grip on the back of his shirt, and had his face buried between the mans shoulder blades. Sirius twisted his head around the look at the teen. He carefully, very carefully, untangled the boy from his shirt and grabbed his hands. He looked into the bright green eyes and smiled.

"It's fine now, Harry. Look – all gone! No more reporters. And if they come back just give me a call. I swear the world will have more frogs." Harry smiled at that and Sirius slowly let his hands go. Harry stood there, trying to find away to express his feelings. He wanted to thank the man – but didn't want to touch him. But...was Sirius counted as one of the people that betrayed him? He didn't replace him with another child, or ignore his disappearance for his brother. In fact, from what he'd been able to get out of a reluctant Regulus, Sirius had been one of the people to constantly search from him.

So Harry, after a few minutes of deliberation and quietly standing there while Sirius wondered why he was looking nervous, hugged the man. It was a quick hug. Harry just darted forward and wrapped his arms around Sirius. Sirius barely had time to hug back before Harry pulled away.

"You're welcome Harry." Thankfully, he correctly interpreted the hug.

"I'd protect you from those blood seeking hounds any day. Maybe I can have a new hobby. Journalist jabbing. Or maybe Reporter rampaging. How about blood sucking mongrel scaring? What do you think?" Sirius filled the time they were walking towards the rest of the group with inane chatter and Harry was grateful. Finally they reached the group and Harry barely noticed James holding Lily very firmly by the hand. Lily tried to reach out with her other hand, but Harry jerked away from the touch. He slammed into Sirius, but the mans touch didn't really bother him – the reason why he practically jerked out of the hug.

Sirius held himself like Regulus did, and had the same air about him that Harry's lover did. They had both been raised by the same people, and it was obvious. But Harry didn't want to get close to anyone here because that would complicate things when Regulus came to get him. But, if Harry got lonely or bored, at least he had someone that he felt comfortable around.

"Hello Harry."Dumbledore said kindly, but Harry liked him as much as he did his father. Reportedly the most powerful, influential wizard in the world – why did he not try to help? Why did they all just stand by and watch as he was set upon by the horde of reporters? Why did Sirius, who had no idea that the only connection they actually had was Regulus, step in to help when he could have watched and felt no shame about it?

Harry inclined his head to the elderly man – showing him the minimum amount of respect.

"I am aware that you can't talk, but I'm here to drop off some placement tests; to see what level of schooling you are up to. We, your parents and I, are interested to see so that we can decide whether it would be better to have you at Hogwarts or homeschooled for this year." Harry nodded. Maybe, if he threw the tests, he could be homeschooled and escape to Regulus. But then, at Hogwarts, he would be able to see the Slytherin dorms where Regulus slept. He could make allies so that when he disappeared again he could keep up to date with what was happening in this world.

But, more than that, he'd never seen Hogwarts before. It sounded so...magical. He had wanted to go since he was a small child, and Godric had only fuelled the flames of that desire.

"I've already given the test to your parents and they told me you didn't have a wand. So you'll get to come to Hogwarts for the practical tests once you get a wand." Harry nodded once more. He was becoming impatient. He desperately wanted something to eat. Hospital food was, truly, not that bad. But Harry wanted something fattening and unhealthy.

Something that Regulus would make for him, or bring home as a treat.

Harry stood there politely as Dumbledore finished talking to his parents and smiled stiffly as the man apparated away. Finally they all went inside. In the living room, Remus was seated on the couch, reading a book out loud to a little girl. Remus looked older than Harry could remember him being. The smile on his face when he saw Harry looked exactly the same as it had five years ago.

"Harry!" He went to stand up, but was kept on the couch by the child clinging to him. Blue black hair was pulled up into a ponytail, blue green eyes gazed at Harry and a large smile was on her face. She waved at him and Harry twitched his hand in response. She then pointed back to the book and, quite forcefully, demanded that Remus finish the story.

Harry was thankful as he slipped into the kitchen. He could still remember the layout of the house. But he wondered if Marianna lived in his room. And, if she did, where would he sleep? Sirius followed behind him and grabbed a plate.

"What do you want to eat?" He asked, smile on his face and Harry shrugged.

"A sandwich it is!" Harry smiled at the man who turned and opened the freezer. He pulled out some ice cream and some chocolate. He placed the food on the bench and grabbed another plate.

"I'm feeling a bit hungry as well." He made two ice cream sandwiches and handed one to Harry. Sirius shoved the ice cream back into the freezer and started to eat his food. Harry took a bite out of his as well, and a bit smile lit up his face. Sirius was now, officially, his favourite person in the house. Using a bit of ice cream that had dropped onto the counter Harry wrote exactly what he thought of his meal.

"Yum indeed." They both continued to eat their sandwiches, leaning against the counter and trying not to make a mess. They were almost finished when Lily came looking for them. She frowned when she found them both.

"Sirius! He's supposed to be eating healthy food – not this junk!" She reprimanded him and Harry took another, larger, bite of his ice cream sandwich. Sirius smiled at Harry and rolled his eyes at Lily.

"The kid just got out of Hospital Lily, give him a break. Besides some muggle say that Chocolate is good for you."

"Some muggles also believe that there is no such thing as magic." Sirius shrugged. Harry had thought that it was a good argument. He'd have to try that one next time Regulus caught him eating too much chocolate. But Regulus would probably shoot down his excuse just as easily as Lily had Sirius'.

"Well when you've finished eating, Harry, come out and you can do a test or two." She walked out of the kitchen, before popping her head back in. Sirius leant back a bit at the smile on her face.

"And neither of you get dessert." She left the kitchen.

"How does she even know I'm staying for dinner?" Sirius asked Harry, who shrugged. He finished off his snack and used the small white board on the fridge to reply.

'_**Do you normally stay for dinner?'**_

"Yes. Lily's food tastes better than take away."

'_**Then that's how she knows. A bit predictable there, Sirius.' **_The man in question shrugged.

"I'm a man of habit. Speaking of habit, I know that you like to keep to yourself. Well you did." Harry nodded and Sirius shoved the rest of his sandwich in his mouth. Harry waited for Sirius to finish eating. He was, obviously, stalling.

"So, I know that you probably don't want to talk about what happened but if you need to I'll listen." Harry nodded.

'_**Thanks. If I want to talk, you'll be who I go to.'**_ Sirius smiled and then clapped his hands together.

"Excellent. And, as an added bonus, I know a way out of the kitchen that means we can bypass the lounge room and your tests." The smile on Sirius' face was mischievous, and Harry had never seen such a thing on Regulus' face. He thought that it would be nice, a change from his usual stoicism. And, thinking of Regulus, Harry nodded.

He could have some fun while he was here, right? Besides, he had hardly gone outside while with Regulus. He missed fresh air and, as an added bonus, it would be easier for Regulus to take him back with less people around.

Sirius cackled a bit before opening the window. He grabbed the marker out of Harrys hand and scribbled a note on the white board.

"Let's go then!" And Sirius helped Harry out the window.


	5. Death Enhancer

_**It has been too long, my lovely readers. Who are so supportive. I've been having a hard time with this story – not the actual writing (because I have a couple of chapters backlogged on my computer) but some one I know printed this off and handed it around to people I know – while I wasn't there. I was completely shattered – and wagged school that day so I could cry in the comfort of my bed. Your reviews have made me feel better and get back on my writing horse. Why should I care that he completely shattered my trust, when I have such fantastic reviews as you all. **_

_**Enjoy the chapter! If you spot any mistakes and they bug you, tell me and I'll fix it. **_

It was silent, and dark, when the trio returned to Godrics hollow. Trio, you may ask, as when they'd left there had only been two of them. Standing next to Harry, with a wide grin on her face, was Hermione Granger. Harry and Sirius had been in a muggle music store when Harry and Hermione had run into each other. Literally. Hermione had apologised profusely, and her temper started to get the better of her when Harry had stayed silent.

Sirius had then recognised Hermione from one of Williams photo albums. Hermione had politely, but coldly, greeted him, and Sirius had looked to Harry to explain why Hermione looked angered. Harry waved to his throat, and then Hermione. Sirius had explained that Harry couldn't talk, and Hermione apologised again for '_being so unbelievably rude and ignorant._' Sirius, ever the charmer, had then suggested that she could repay the perceived debt by coming out to lunch with them.

Hermione had called her parents and explained that she was spending the rest of the day with some friends, and the newly formed trio had set off. Lunchtime soon turned into dinner, and dinner turned into '_oh shit, we've got to get you home._' Sirius had declared that his motorbike could fit all three of them. But he'd left the keys at Godrics Hollow.

They walked past the kitchen window, and Harry pointed to it with a raised eyebrow.

"Don't be silly, Harry. You never return to the scene of the crime. Well, the exact scene of the crime in this case. Lily will have made sure that that window is locked so tight. She's probably lying in wait next to it, just out of sight, to catch us in the act." Harry rolled his eyes and grabbed the back of Sirius shirt, using as little physical contact as possible, and gestured for Hermione to stay where she was.

The window was, after all, open. Sirius keys were even visible from outside the house. All that they needed to do was reach inside and then run like hell for the edge of the wards. Then they would quickly hide while Sirius called his Motorcycle. Because Sirius had tinkered with it, all he had to do was press a button on his keys and the bike would come to him.

Harry ignored Sirius petrified look and plunged his arm into the window before drawing it back, keys jingling from his hand. The keys seemed to make an awful racket in the silence, and the three of them ran for the wards. They reached the edge of the wards, and Hermione was almost hysterical. Harry thought that the large smile must hurt her cheeks.

"I've never done anything so...so...against the rules, before!" She gushed and Harry gave her a little smile, pointing to the motorbike that had just appeared in front of Sirius.

"Oh my." She exclaimed and Sirius nodded.

"If you thought that was against the rules, prepare yourself because my baby breaks several laws – and I haven't even started her up yet." Sirius sounded so excited that all Hermione could do to stop herself from fainting was giggle nervously.

Harry rolled his eyes. She was slightly annoying. Non stop talking, a seeming know it all with slightly painful hair; but she was growing on him. But slightly – only very, very slightly. It wouldn't do, after all, to have any attachments stronger than people he was vaguely acquainted with once he disappeared with Regulus again.

Both Sirius and Hermione were on the motorcycle now, and Harry saw a problem that she should have seen as soon as Sirius had mentioned squeezing onto the motorcycle.

"Harry?" Hermione was looking at him curiously, and Sirius had a sudden look of understanding on his face. Either that or his brain stopped working temporarily making him look more brain dead than usual.

"Harry doesn't like to be touched. Which is going to make this rather awkward. Who would you rather have close to you, Harry? Me or a woman who, although very nice, you've only known for a days." Harry rolled his eyes and was considering saying Hermione just to crush his oversized ego – but that would mean he'd have to touch Hermione. Harry had two options, stay here or be on a motorbike next to – probably in front of – Sirius. Harry stepped back a bit and waved them on, so that Sirius could take Hermione home.

Sirius rolled his eyes, but started up the bike anyway, accepting the fact that he'd have to leave his little godson here. At the roar of his bike starting up, the lights of the house flicked to life, and several figures emerged from the house and came running towards the wards. All three could clearly see the look of intense fury on Lily's face and Harry retook the step. That was enough for Sirius to drag him onto the bike, seating Harry in front of him, and rode off.

Harry had frozen in front of Sirius, pressed into the mans chest. Sirius, thankfully, had both hands on the bike and wasn't touching him any further. It was Hermione's arms that had wrapped around him as soon as they'd started down the road. Sirius had gone from completely still; to so fast that Harry had to shut his eyes. Hermione had, instinctually wrapped her arms around the man in front of her, and Harry had been still in the motion of being dragged onto the bike – so he hadn't had a chance to lean forward.

Harry was slightly grateful for Hermione's grip on him, however much it made his skin crawl, when the bike flew off a cliff face. Hermione's grip tightened on his stomach, and her high pitched scream was hurting his ears.

Harry knew he would have to get revenge on Sirius. The mans laughter was louder than Hermione's screams. Eventually Hermione's screams tapered off. Sirius decided that that was a good time to ask her where she lived, unless she wanted to continue to fly around all night.

"Surrey. My parents just moved there. We used to live in London, but a well established dentist's clinic went under the hammer, and my mother has always wanted her own clinic. So we moved. We live at number six Privet Drive. Our neighbours are horrid. A horse like lady who gossips like the world would end if she didn't, and I always catch her peeking out through her curtains to spy on the street. Her husband is hideous also. He's morbidly obese, and their son will probably need a triple bypass before he reaches twenty."

Hermione was still talking, but Harry tuned her out. She was just going on and on and on about her _'absolutely repulsive'_ neighbours, and the horrible conformity of the street she lives in. It felt good to fly again. Harry had forgotten how good it felt to fly – even if it was on a motorbike with people touching him. The wind was whirling all around him, almost drowning out Hermione for him, and it seemed to be welcoming him back. Caressing his face, sliding through his hair.

Harry lost track of the time, just revelling in the feeling of his feet nowhere near the ground, so it came as a complete shock when the bike suddenly jerked and landed on the ground. Harry felt his head snap back and slam into Sirius's chest, while an 'ouch' from behind him indicated that Hermione had also head butted Sirius.

"Nice landing." Hermione said, verbalizing what Harry was thinking.

"Hey, you two should count yourselves lucky. The first time I landed, I didn't. The bike stopped, and I kept flying through the air until I hit a tree. Luckily I got to St. Mungos in time so that I didn't become a quadriplegic." Harry slid off the bike as fast as he could, and gave an incredulous look to Sirius. A quadriplegic? Harry was suddenly thankful that the worst he got was slight headache.

"My god! Are you telling me that I could have severely injured myself with riding that...that...thing?" She shrieked. Sirius nodded, a happy smile on his face.

"Yep. I fixed the kink, anyway. So the worst that could have happened was a few broken ribs. Or cracking your head open. Besides, what's life without a few risks, eh?" Harry could almost see the steam coming from Hermione's ears while Sirius talked, and wisely took a step back, away from the pair.

"A few risks?" She asked, calmly, and Sirius realized that he was in trouble. Lily did the exact same thing when she was past yelling, and imagining decorating the den with his innards.

"Ah...we should really get you home. It's just there. All you have to do is walk up the path..."

"'_A few risks_' is changing your brand of toothpaste, going on a roller coaster, having unprotected sex. That bike is a death trap."

"That's where you're wrong. It's not a trap – I warned you before. And besides, I like to think of it as a death enhancer, life shortener, not a death trap." Hermione launched herself at Sirius, and the man ran for it. The infuriated teenage girl snarled, and Sirius gave a very manly squeal, before he saw his only salvation looking out the window. Sirius ran for the door and knocked frantically. A middle aged woman with hair like her daughters, and an amused look in her eyes answered the door.

"Hello?" She asked, a man coming to stand behind her. He had the same warm brown eyes as Hermione.

"Hi-" He was cut off by his own squeak of fear as Hermione tapped him on the shoulder.

"Sorry I'm late home mother, but I'll just be another minute. Could you get the shovel?" Dr. Granger laughed.

"What have I said about digging graves? Get your father to do it." Hermione nodded, Dr. Phil Granger groaned, and Sirius was almost in tears.

"Harry!" He shouted, running for his godson.

"Save me." Harry dodged Sirius' flailing arms, and felt the spark of mischievousness that Godric always encouraged, and Regulus tolerated, flare up. Extending his leg, Sirius went tumbling to the grass.

"Traitor!" He cried theatrically, and Harry rolled his eyes.

"Thank you Harry." Hermione said, but was stopped from approaching the downed man by her fathers hand on her shoulder.

"Would you two like to come in for a cup of tea?" Sirius eyed Hermione warily, and Harry rolled his eyes. Harry held up his wrist and tapped it, making sure Sirius understood that it was getting late and they needed to get back if they wanted to survive the encounter with Lily. Sirius was torn between a smile and a grimace. Good, no tea with a murderous Hermione. Bad, going home to a murderous Lily where he won't get any tea anyway. Sirius sighed.

"Sorry, we'd love to, but I have to get Harry home. He just got out of the hospital, and I kind of kidnapped him from school work and healthy food. I'm gonna get my balls cut off anyway, and if it's done within the next half hour, I'll be able to catch the cute nurse at St. Mungos. Lily is the real Death Enhancer, not my precious baby." The Grangers nodded and Sirius stood up, ignoring Hermione's tick at his half muttered last comment.

"Ready to go, Harry?" Harry nodded and Sirius climbed onto his bike, with Harry reluctantly jumping up behind him. He would take the lift home, but he wouldn't be touching Sirius. He had better plans. The two of them waved goodbye to the Grangers and Sirius started his bike up again, riding down half the road before the bike flew into the sky. Harry could hear Hermione's enraged shout of '_I knew you didn't have to use the cliff!_'

Harry placed his hands on the bit of seat behind him, leaning back and revelling in the wind. He had missed flying. He'd have to find a broom and take it out for a spin, as long as nobody saw. He didn't want to have anything in common with his father or brother. Harry shifted his position a bit, and Sirius chanced a look back because of the movement.

Harry had his hands stretched out either side of him, fingers moving through the air. Sirius laughed, and Harry couldn't help the smile that was on his face. Maybe when Regulus took him away, they'd get a broom. A really, really fast one. That could do tricks. And then Harry could practice the wronski feint, and laugh at the look that would be on Regulus' face.

"Hold on!" Sirius shouted to him, and Harry only just managed to clutch at the seat before Sirius started into a series of loops, dives and rolls. Harry's eyes widened, and his cheeks flushed with happiness. It was wonderful. Sirius was laughing so loudly, and Harry felt like he could get away with a laugh as well. So he did, thankful that Sirius' loud, boisterous voice covered his own one, rusty from disuse.

Eventually they started their descent, and there was another jerky landing. Luckily Harrys head didn't slam into Sirius back, he didn't hurt himself at all. The bike rolled to a stop, and Sirius turned off the engine. There was blessed silence, and Sirius chuckled.

"You think we can sneak in unnoticed?" He turned to ask Harry, a huge grin on his face.

"No." Sirius' grin slid off his face at the icy cold voice of Lily.

"In fact, I rather think you'll never sneak anywhere again. After all, you need to be alive for that – don't you?" Sirius turned around and, standing on the sidewalk underneath a large tree, was a furious Lily Potter.

"Both of you inside, now. We need to have a little...talk." Harry thought about objecting. Who was she to tell him what to do, after all? But self preservation won out. After all, no matter how much he detested the woman, he wasn't stupid enough to go head to head with a woman who probably had at least _some_ maternal instincts.

So Harry and Sirius carefully skirted around Lily, and then walked very quickly towards the house. The lights were on, and Harry saw a smirking William in the window for a second before he disappeared, leaving only moving curtains in his wake. Harry scowled. He couldn't wait until William got in trouble.

And if he didn't get in trouble soon, Harry might have to orchestrate something. Regulus had taught him a thing or two, after all.


	6. Confusion

_Want to know a secret? I had this chapter finished before chapter 5. He he…and I am sorry for my slackness in updating. I just never have the time, or if I do have the time I either don't have the patience or I'm reading. A new obsession of mine…Alex Rider fanfiction. But not all of the fanficiton, as I've not really read the books. Skimmed, read summaries, watched the movie (and absolutely fallen in love with Yassen/Alex.) Does so much slash, involving people of considerable age differences, make me a bad person? No, I thought not. _

_It makes me pathetically easy to distract, however. But I think I was like that before I discovered any form of fanfiction. Thank you to my reviewers, especially Die in a hole with Penguins, Ikidori, Zorica72, Cascol3, chochowilliams, tetee77515, The Secret Uchiha, scorpionika, SnowWhitetiger, Blackest-Apologies and Sofia Ottoman. Don't worry if you've reviewed and your name isn't here, these are just the people who have participated in the last 25 reviews and I thought I'd show shome love. I name very often because I'm lazy. I hope you're happy. _

Harry had never gotten yelled and screamed at by his 'parents' before – mainly because he was kidnapped before he could get into trouble – so he followed Sirius' lead. The man had his hands hanging limply in his lap, and his head down. He was staring at the floor, hair hanging lank in front of his eyes. Harry copied the man expertly, even going so far as to have the exact same expression on his face. Harry also copied Sirius' mental state, though he didn't know it. They were both completely and utterly bored, and not actually listening to Lily's chastising them. James was leaning against a wall, letting Lily handle it.

"And _what_ do you have to say for yourselves?" Both Harry and Sirius jerked their heads up at that, with the same ashamed look on their faces, but a slightly mischievous look in their eyes ruining their expert performances. Harry had completely schooled his face to be like Sirius', but he felt a bit proud to get the woman so wound up and was wondering when he could do it again. It was fun.

Sirius was just proud that he managed to steal his precious little godson away from Lily for an _entire_ day, and part of the night.

Lily was taken aback. Sirius and Harry had looked up at her at the exact same time and their facial expressions were exactly the same. It was creepy. And then their eyes, completely different in colour, were identical in expression. She was lost for words. Their resemblance was uncanny.

"I'm sorry for making you worry like that, Lily. Really. It's just; I wanted Harry to have some fun. And I'm sure Harry is sorry for making you worry like that, too." Harry nodded, playing along with Sirius' '_sincere'_ apology. It took Lily a few seconds to find her voice. She sighed.

"I won't punish either of you, this time. There are some leftovers in the fridge. Get." And the two of them were gone from their seats in half a second. There was the sound of the fridge opening, and Lily turned around to look at a surprised James.

"Lily? Are you feeling alright? I was looking forward to watching you implement those creative suggestions. Or at least a first grounding, for Harry, and a trip to St. Mungo's for Sirius.

"Well, I guess I just caved at Harrys perfect imitation of Sirius' '_I'm a very, very repentant, wretched kicked puppy look._'" James nodded, chuckling a bit.

"Yeah, that was creepy wasn't it? Anyone who didn't know us might think that those two are father and son, instead of Harry and I." James chuckled, and Lily let out a forced little chuckle as well.

"I'm going to head up to bed now, can I trust you to get Harry to bed and kick Sirius out for the night?" Lily asked and, at James' nod, fled up the stairs. The man shrugged before heading to the kitchen. He wanted to know all the details about his sons first major rule break.

Harry stared at his little sister from across the dining room table. Harry didn't know what to think of her. He wanted to hate her, Merlin did he want to hate her, but she was only a child. Younger than he was when he was taken away by Regulus. It felt wrong, somehow, to hate her. It wasn't her fault the family she was born into. She isn't at fault for being born. It's her disgusting parents that are to blame.

Marianna noticed his stare, and smiled at him. Harry felt an involuntary quirk of his lips. What was happening to him? He was making attachments left, right and centre. First Sirius, the idiot man who was so similar to Regulus that he wormed his way past Harry barriers. Then there was Hermione, and Harry had no idea how they managed to form a bond. Harry blamed Sirius. Completely. He was the one to invite Hermione along. And then she was there. Now they had another outing the day after tomorrow, when Harry would get his test results back.

And then there was Marianna. Harry knew Sirius wasn't to blame here. It was just Harrys weakness for children. Not all children, because most were complete bastards that should have been drowned at birth, retroactive abortion, but there were some kids that were completely sweet.

Like Marianna.

Harry continued to eat his dinner, some type of meat that he didn't taste, and wished that Regulus would hurry up and get him. As horrible as it sounded, he was starting to...well, not like it here, but he was getting used to it. Avoid James in the morning; ignore William during the day when he was here; listen politely to the werewolf Remus who was nice (another attachment, because the werewolf seemed to be more human than _James_); pretend to listen to Lily; plan a prank with Sirius and, occasionally, play some games with Marianna.

Harry excused himself from the table and headed up to his room, trying to get away from how quickly he was adjusting. It wasn't supposed to be like this. For one thing, he was never supposed to have left Regulus' side. He would have been happy hating his birth family and living with Regulus for the rest of his life. But since he was here, he was supposed to hate it. It was supposed to go exactly like he'd thought it would when he'd had some time alone in the hospital.

James and Lily would be complete bastards, his brother would be an asshole and his little sister would be completely obnoxious, spoilt and worse than William. No one was supposed to care, and his complete hatred of them would be justified and reinforced. But that wasn't how it went and, fuck, it was confusing.

Lily was nice to him, and James wasn't as bad as Harry would have thought. Not that the man was easy to get along with, because Harry could still see exactly how much of an asshole James was, he just wasn't as bad as Harry had prepared himself for. Marianna wasn't how he'd thought she'd be, either. Regulus had warned him that, should they ever meet, she'd be a complete bitch. Even as a little child.

But she wasn't.

In fact, William was the worst. Not that it was surprising; Regulus had been completely accurate with his prediction of Williams personality. Harry hated William, and his expectations had been fulfilled. But, Harry was so confused. Why weren't the rest of them like Regulus had assured him they would be?

Harry had been so completely willing to let Regulus tell him how to think and act and feel – but Regulus was wrong. He wasn't always right, and Harry so wished that Regulus had been _completely_ right. Even if it meant that his time here was hell, Regulus would be right. Harry wouldn't have to change his beliefs and thoughts because Regulus would be _right_. Regulus would come and all would be right with the world because nothing had changed because _Regulus had been right_.

_But_ _Regulus was wrong_.

Harry rubbed his face with his hand as he opened the door to his bedroom. It was the same one he'd had as a child. One of the first things Regulus had done when he'd found out about the birth of Marianna was to tell Harry about it. To assure them that they'd changed his room. His bed wasn't there anymore, his toys, his books, nothing. They'd cleared the house of his very existence to make way for the precious, new baby.

Their replacement child.

The toys strewn neatly across the floor, bedspread featuring the Irish national Quidditch team – of which none of the players on the blanket were a part of anymore – as well as a small bookshelf filled with child pop up books, fairy tales and even a few muggle books proved Regulus wrong. Again. His room hadn't changed one bit. When Lily had reintroduced him to his room, she'd tearfully told him that they hadn't changed a thing. His bed had even been unmade and a book had been open on the floor. The book had been something inane on Irish legends and was now firmly back on the shelf.

Harry hadn't been able to sleep the first night – haunted by barely there memories of a place he used to know.

Harry sat down on his bed, placing his head in his hands. Everything was so confusing. He kicked off his shoes, and reluctantly climbed into his bed. It was a single bed, made for a child. He still fit it, but it was an odd feeling. It wasn't a giant bed with dark silk sheets that hid blood stains, and there was no Regulus sleeping still as a log on his back for Harry to curl into.

After the first sleepless night, Harry had taken a pillow from the linen cupboard to hold onto while he slept, but it had fallen off the small bed and Harry didn't feel like leaning over to pick it back up. As Harry rolled onto his side, staring out the window into the dark night, he assured himself that his willingness to leave the pillow on the ground had nothing to do with his current feelings for Regulus.

After all, it was just a pillow. It didn't represent anything. Just because he'd gotten it because he missed Regulus, didn't mean sleeping without it meant he didn't miss Regulus. He just needed the extra space in his bed.

And if the hole he'd felt since arriving here, the space that Regulus occupied, felt a bit smaller, then it merely meant that Harry was learning to ignore the pain better.

"So, Harry, have you opened the letter yet?" Hermione asked excitedly. Harry had learnt, by half listening to the woman when she rambled, that she didn't have many friends. Surprise. She was in Gryffindor, and at the top of all her classes – tied with Draco Malfoy – but didn't any good friends. She had people she sat next to in class, people she talked to, acquaintances', but not best friend. She didn't fit in with the other Griffindors. Really, Harry _was_ surprised.

The reason why, however, _had_ surprised and delighted Harry. She had rejected his brother. He'd tried to be her friend, but she'd told him she didn't associate with people who had bigger egos than body matter. He'd then, ever since third year, tried to get her to be his girlfriend. She'd outright laughed in his face – that time and every other.

While Williams constant pursuit of Hermione, and her constant refusal, hadn't endeared her to the other girls who constantly fawned over William, it had certainly endeared her to Harry. Sirius had told him that everyone was having a sense of Déjà vu. Everyone, meaning the teachers and Lily and James themselves, thought that it was going to end up exactly like it had years earlier with Lily and James. Hermione would acquiesce to one date and then fall in love.

Sirius had also told him that he'd agreed until he had actually met Hermione. The muggleborn girl was more stubborn than anyone he'd ever met. If she had decided that she'd never give William the time of day, then she would stick by it. Sirius, who was looking at Harrys letter just as eagerly as Hermione, had even been the one to tell William that, _no_, he couldn't come. Harry had been ecstatic at the look on Williams face.

Harry broke the seal on his letter, giving it a quick scan before holding it up for the other two magical people in the muggle cafe to see. The two of them snatched the letter from his hand, and Harry was surprised to see that his hand was still attached. The violent way the two of them had ripped the parchment away, he wouldn't have been surprised to see that his hand had been ripped away with it.

"Oh Harry!" Hermione squealed, visibly restraining herself from jumping across the table and embracing Harry. She had learned quickly that physical contact wasn't a good idea with Harry. She'd accepted it without question, which Harry thought was excellent. There were no questions as to why, like with William and James, or pitying glances like the ones Lily and Remus gave, just acceptance like Sirius had given along with the promise of a shoulder if it was ever needed.

"Congratulations! Hopefully you'll even get into Gryffindor and then we'll have the same core classes." Sirius was also smiling.

"Excellent. I'll have to get Remus to whip you up a copy of the Marauders Map so that you can sneak around the castle. Maybe Moony can also help to organise some prank material. Your teachers won't know what hit 'em." He cackled for a few seconds before Hermione slapped the back of his head.

"Sirius!" The man looked wary. What was the girl going to say? He'd seen her on a rant, and really didn't want it aimed at him. Instead, she smiled.

"I can't believe that you...wouldn't think to include me." During her entire school career, she had been isolated and devoid of true friendship. In her muggle primary school because she was the weird, book girl with large teeth, and then in Hogwarts because of her refusal to follow the crowd and instead choosing her morals and beliefs. So she was used to a certain role. The rule follower, bookworm, the strict un fun person.

But following the rules so much had given her a greater appreciation for breaking them. And because she knew how to follow the rules to a T, she was acutely aware of how far the rules could be bent. She knew how to avoid and get around rules – because most of them had loophole. The intention of the rules was often not written into them.

And you couldn't get into trouble if all you did was follow the written instead of the inferred or intention.

The next two hours, both Harry and Sirius found that the Marauders had met their match in one girl. Harry didn't really appreciate the fine art of pranking, Regulus had never thought much of it, but Godric had spoken to him of a few good ones. Thinking of the portrait, Harry wondered how he was doing. Without Harry there, he'd have no one to talk to once more. The portrait had rarely spoken of how lonely he'd been before Harry had started to talk to him, but Harry had read between the lines when he did let a few things slip.

And it upset Harry that he'd not even thought upon his portrait friend since he'd been taken away from Regulus. He ignored the heated conversation that Hermione and Sirius were having, debating the benefits of breaking the rules completely or just bending them until they were unrecognisable '_but in such a way that you can't get in trouble._' Right now he was feeling worse than he had in a little while.

Poor, poor Godric. Harry missed him so much that, leaning against the wooden table in a muggle cafe, he felt physical pain. He ignored the fact that he hadn't felt so bad about not being near Regulus for a while, because that would only cause more confusion that Harry didn't need, and thought about his first friend. He might have had friends before he'd been abducted, but not any real ones. Their intentions had been tainted by Harrys fame, and William had been his brother – not his friend.

Poor Godric. Godric, with aristocratic features that made him looks so imposing and noble, had a smile that lit up his entire portrait. His smile stretched across his entire face, but his dark jade eyes often competed with the wide smile for what was more illuminating. Harry missed conversing with the man. Missed the piano lessons, missed reading the books on the shelf to him, missed the way he'd say something entirely inappropriate and then waggle his eyebrows like a loon.

"...Harry? Harry?" The teen jerked out of his thoughts and looked up at Hermione and Sirius, who were looked at him with concern. He raised an eyebrow in question, and they looked back at him.

"Are you all right? Sirius has been calling your name for a while." Harry picked the pen up from the table and wrote his response on the writing pad. The pad wasn't used much, because Sirius and Hermione understood most of his gestures. He turned it around and waited for them to read it.

'_I was only thinking of a friend that I haven't seen for a while._'

"Who?" Harry stared at the paper, thinking that he really shouldn't answer Hermione's question. Why should he state her curiosity? They couldn't help him, even if he told them. The only way he'd be able to see Godric again would be to find out where Godrics other portrait was. And then steal it. Not that Harry was opposed to stealing a portrait with Godric in it, because he really wanted to see his friend again, but it seemed needlessly complicated and wouldn't work. He found himself writing in the pad again anyway.

'_Godric, he's a good friend._' Sirius looked at the sentence, and both Harry and Hermione started when Sirius let out a loud exclamation of _'Aha!'_

"Would Godric happen to be a portrait?" Harry looked up at Sirius, unwilling to let himself hope – but was it possible that Sirius knew where the other portrait Godric inhabited was? Not only would that be the second best thing that could happen to Harry – Regulus coming to get him being on the top of that list – but Sirius would become his third favourite person in the world. After Regulus and Godric.

'_Yes, he's a portrait. Dark hair, jade eyes, a smile that stretches across his entire face._' Sirius quickly read the sentence, and nodded.

"Well, I don't know about his smile, because I've never seen him smile before, but the dark hair and jade eyes sounds about right. He has a portrait in Hogwarts somewhere. It's on the seventh floor somewhere – a full body portrait. Glares at anyone who tries to talk to him. He's leaning against a piano with a sword strapped to his waist." Harry nodded this time. It would make sense that Godric had a piano in one of his portraits, since he knew how to play.

Harry was suddenly excessively happy that he was going to go to Hogwarts, even more so than before. He'd never heard Godric play the piano before. He couldn't wait. Harry didn't even bother to respond on the paper, he didn't have to. A smile that he couldn't contain stretched across his face. This was brilliant. Harry stood up, quickly followed by Hermione and Sirius, the latter of which threw some money down to pay for their meal, and all three of them left the cafe.

Harry walked down the street and, when Sirius tried to talk to him, he span around and hugged the extremely shocked man. Harry then let him go and continued to walk through the muggle part of Godrics Hollow and onward to the house his family lived in. Sirius smiled at Hermione wrote something down on the pad that Harry had forgotten in the cafe.

'_I have a plan._'

Hermione smiled and the two of them followed Harry back to the house, details springing into Sirius mind to make sure his plan went off without a hitch.


	7. Meetings

Oh gods above! _Double update _– no readers; resist the heart attack! Man I was so tempted to end the chapter after Harry entered the corridor where Godric is, but I really like living. And I know people in the real world who read this. They will hurt me. And I rather like my spine inside my body. Just, you know, as a general rule. And you know what? There haven't been any warnings for a long time. Interesting. Oh, except for the bad humour warning which is just permanently attached to all my stories.

Hogwarts castle really was magnificent. Approaching from the lake, the sun set igniting the sky into an inferno of reds and oranges, the castle stood silent and strong. Harry was in awe. He was in a small rickety boat, that Harry really didn't think was safe, staring up at the ancient castle. The sky was gradually getting darker, and the windows became illuminated and it just made the castle look... glorious.

Harry could understand why the first year students were made to approach this way, rather than the threstal drawn carriages that Hermione, Sirius and the rest of his family had taken up to the castle. Harry had never seen a threstal before, and he could see them, but Godric had told him about them once. They were magnificent, in there own way. And, heading to Hogwarts so that he could see his friend again, Godric and everything that Godric had ever told him was on his mind. So remembering the name of the odd creatures wasn't a big stretch.

Still staring at the castle and her grounds, Harry was almost taken out by some low hanging vines as the boat entered a small cavern. Only quick thinking, and a lot of undignified flailing, Harry easily jumped out of the boat and hurried up the steps, where a stern looking woman greeted him.

"Hello Mr. Potter, it is nice to finally meet you. I'm Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor House." Harry reluctantly took her hand, as he didn't want to seem impolite. Godric had told him that being impolite and rude, was simply not acceptable. Normally Harry didn't particularly care how other people saw him, Regulus had told him that he shouldn't care if he was rude to people below him or people who he didn't know, but Regulus wasn't here and Godric was. _Godric_ was _here_, _he_ was near _Godric_. So close!

With that, Harry's steps sped up. He kept his calm, stoic facade as he shook hands with Dumbledore and half listened to the man welcome him to Hogwarts and babble about the castle for a bit. Thankfully Sirius, who Harry realised, was probably as awesome as Regulus, cut Dumbledore off.

"Albus, how about we just find that portrait, eh? It's been tough for Harry, adjusting to the life he was cruelly snatched from, and seeing a familiar face that helped him get through such a tough time would do him a world of good." Harry didn't even mind that Sirius used the '_give comfort and pity to poor Harry_' card to get Dumbledore to do what he wanted – because it worked.

Harry even ignored the pitying glances sent to him by everyone present, except for Hermione, Sirius and surprisingly Lily. Maybe she'd cottoned on to the fact that, a, Harry didn't like pity and, b, Sirius was bullshitting. For all he knew, Godric had tormented him and Harry just wanted to vandalise his portrait. Not that Godric would do something so cruel. No one knew what had happened during '_his time away_,' as people delicately put it, because Harry refused to tell them in any way. And this, according to the healers at St. Mungos, meant that he was still traumatised.

'_Don't worry, Mrs. Potter, he'll tell you when he's ready. Forcing him to talk could have adverse effects on his psyche or maybe even regress on the progress that he's made._' Apparently not talking automatically meant that you couldn't hear, as that was only a small part of the conversation that Lily and his mind healer had had while he was sitting next to them. All sorts of things that Harry would rather no one had known. And some things that Harry didn't know magic could find out. Embarrassing things.

Harry made a mental note to himself to investigate Lily's lack of pity later, because right now he wouldn't be able to think rationally. He was so excited; he was only winning the battle to not jump up and down by the barest margin.

After the looks of silent pity were dispensed with, the group which included James, William, Sirius, Marianna, Lily, Hermione, Professor McGonagall, Professor Dumbledore and Harry, started up the stairs. It took a while to get to the seventh floor, because they had to wait for a few staircases. Because, you know, the staircases moved. Harry was aware that they moved, having heard about it many times during his childhood, and from Regulus and Godric a couple of times, and normally he wouldn't have cared. It was a part of magical life, after all.

He was already so excited, though, that the phenomenon of moving staircases was _amazing_. It just made him happier, more eager and enthusiastic. He was acting like some sort of…of…teenager. Well, he was a teenager, but he'd never acted like one before. The feeling was astounding. It felt so free, or maybe he just felt like that because Godric was so near. And then they reached the seventh floor of Hogwarts. Dumbledore turned around and face them all, a kind smile on his face.

"I'm afraid that the seventh floor is a very difficult floor. It is on this floor that my office is located, and it's hardly ever where I leave it." He chuckled, Harry did not. "The problem with this floor is that everything is so magical it moves around of its own free will, which is why we don't hold any classes on this floor. But the portraits, bathrooms, unused rooms, offices and occasionally even stairwells move around so much that we have to go and look for the portrait of Godric."

Harry was absolutely fine with that. All he had to do was find Godric first, and then he could talk. Use his rusty vocal chords. It would be good to hear his deep voice again and the smile and hopefully even his laugh. Maybe Godric will even play the piano in his portrait for him.

"Pair up!" Dumbledore called happily, and Harry frowned a bit. There were nine people, looks like he'd have to go without a pair. But before he could slip away, he was stopped. Sirius smiled at him, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he tugged at the front of Harrys shirt and quickly pulled the younger man down the hall. Harry noticed that Hermione was left behind, and regretted it when he saw William swaggering towards her.

Her eyes caught his and she glared at him. He knew that he and Sirius would regret not pairing up with her. But that was wiped from his mind with Sirius next words.

"I know where the portrait is." And then Sirius didn't need to drag him along. In fact, Sirius had a hard time staying in front of the teen to guide them to where the portrait was.

The two raven haired men ran through the halls, and eventually – in a time Sirius hadn't thought physically possible – they were on the other side of the seventh floor, in the dead end corridor that Godric resided in. The portrait never moved, it was just the hallway that did. All Sirius had had to do was sneak a quick glance at the Marauders Map while everyone else was distracted and hey Presto! Sirius looked over at Harry, and wondered if he should tell Lily that she should enrol Harry into some type of muggle running sport. Sirius was almost wheezing to hard to say what he wanted to say.

Sirius looked at Harry, who was standing as if he hadn't just sprinted across an entire floor of a castle, and was a bit shocked at the intense look on his face. Harry didn't often show emotions, and if he did it was just a quirk of his lips, or a twitch of his brow – the day Sirius had told him where Godrics portrait was being the obvious exception. Sirius had wondered if someone had spiked his coffee, to be perfectly honest.

Harry was staring straight at the portrait of Godric, hung at the very end of the corridor. The portrait had his eyes closed, leaning against the piano, and was ignorant of their approach. Sirius had had a reason for dragging Harry off, apart from the fact he knew where the portrait was. After they'd dropped Hermione home on the first day they'd met her, Sirius had heard Harry laugh. He'd been confused, at first. If he could laugh, why couldn't he speak? But then he'd realised, and felt like an idiot for not getting it straight away.

The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. If Harry didn't want to talk about it, most people wouldn't care and pester him anyway. And Sirius had been around Potters for all his life and, even though he acted disturbingly more like a Black than Sirius himself, the Black Lord knew what would happen. Harry would get annoyed and snap, with either violence or a violent, raging rampage of a speech. If they thought that Harry couldn't talk about it, however, they would leave him well enough alone. So Sirius didn't confront Harry about it, but he figured that Harry needed to _talk_ to Godric.

He couldn't do that if he still wanted to pretend that he was physically incapable of speech. Since Sirius already knew, Harry could talk to his heart's content.

"Harry," Sirius whispered, so as to not alert Godric, "I know you can speak, and I won't tell anyone, I promise. You should go talk to your friend – use that voice of yours before it collects any more dust. You must sound like some sort of banshee by now." Harry looked at Sirius, shocked, before he gave him a slight smile and a nod. He continued down the corridor, while Sirius turned back and stood at the entrance of the corridor to make sure that no one interrupted them.

The closer Harry moved to Godric, the slower his movements became. Godric looked the same. The same dark not really black hair, skin that was pale but still darker than Harrys own, same aristocratic facial features. It was all there, but more. This was a full portrait, rather than the one at Regulus' home which cut off at Godrics waist. Harry had never seen so much of his friend before. Harry was unsurprised at the mans height. Maybe the same height as Regulus, maybe a bit taller.

He wasn't wearing, as Harry always assumed, robes. Instead he was wearing a forest green tunic, a dark black cloak, soft leather boots that reached just under his knees, a belt with his sword attached. And a pair of tights. Actual tights. Not tight pants, or breeches, but actual tights. Harry would normally say made of spandex, but Harry didn't know if the material existed when Godric did. Harry was sure Godric would delight in the modern range of fabrics. He might even become quite taken with lycra.

And with that Godric was alerted to Harry's presence. By his boisterous laughter. Godrics eyes snapped open, and he gasped. Whatever scathing remark he'd been about to deliver lost as he saw that it was Harry who had disturbed his peace. Harry who he'd not seen since he'd been rescued from Regulus. Harry who was almost crying with laughter. What was so funny?

"Harry?" Godric ignored the fact that his voice was softer than it normally was; he was not emotional at all about this reunion. He was a great Lord, and nothing so simple could get to him like this. Oh who was he kidding? He was almost tearing up at seeing Harry again. He'd never thought he'd set eyes upon the teen again.

"Why Godric, I didn't know you wore tights." The teens voice was amused, and Godric rolled his eyes. Of course something so inane and wonderfully Harry would be the first thing said.

"Hush brat. Tights were in fashion, once. And besides, they make me look bigger." There was a cheeky smile on Godrics face and Harry, who hadn't been exposed to such banter since he'd woken up in the hospital, took a moment to get it. When he did, his eyes involuntarily flickered down before returning to Godrics face.

"Oh Godric, would you like to talk about your completely founded insecurities." Godrics mouth dropped open, and he tugged his cloak tighter slightly, before he smiled. He was, secretly, pleased with the light blush on Harrys face. Godric seated himself on the piano seat next to him, before sliding past that and onto the floor.

"I have missed you, Harry." Harry smiled at the life sized portrait, moving to sit on the floor as well.

"I've not missed you. Except for all the times when I have. It's good to see you again Godric." The elder wizard smiled at Harrys banter. He had missed this. There was no one at the other house to talk to, and Godric hated speaking to people in the castle. Most of them never gave him any respect, merely because of his family. No accomplishments were ever remembered – only bad things. It disgusted him.

"So, what have you been doing with yourself since I last saw you, Godric?" Harry asked and Godric though, so that he could word his answer precisely, and then opened his mouth the give the most detailed recount of what he had been doing since Harry had last seen him.

"Not a god damned thing." Harry gave a bemused huff. Regulus had never liked Godric. Harry had always attested it to the fact that Godric didn't act like a pureblood lord. He was often blunt, crass, spoke his mind and didn't worry about offending people. He was never rude, though. Sometimes Harry would think that there was more to the hatred, especially since it ran both ways, but he always ignored the thought. Knowing those two, one of them had probably laughed at an inappropriate moment – and the others ego had never recovered.

"What about you? Is your life as interesting as mine?" Harry smiled, before delving into what he'd been doing. And he used the next half hour to tell Godric everything. The portrait had been his confidant for years – and it hadn't changed.

"They're all so nice Godric, it's not fair. Why are they all so nice? Lily is how I remember her. She doesn't favour William, she doesn't hate me, and she isn't hate filled and spiteful. James is an arsehole, but I'm pretty sure he was always like that. Marianna isn't some devil spawn creature that took over my room and desecrated all of my toys. They gave her the guest room. My room was still perfectly in tact when they took me back to Godric's Hollow. There was even a stupid book on the floor – and the covers were wrinkled and pulled back because I hadn't made my bed the morning Regulus took me." Harry could feel tear building in his confusion, and tried to hold them back. Godric had seen him cry too many times.

"And then there is William – and Regulus was right. He's an arrogant little prick, who thinks only of himself and couldn't care less about others. How can Regulus have gotten it so right for William and still be so wrong with the others? And then there are other people. Sirius, Remus, Hermione. They're all nice to me. Hermione is my age, and she doesn't care that I don't speak, or about my past or how famous I am. And Sirius is probably the third coolest person in the world." Harry had already explained his motive behind acting mute.

"Third coolest person? Who is in front of him?" Harry rolled his eyes.

"You and Regulus, of course. Who else?" Really, Harry knew he was a portrait but he had always assumed Godric had been painted with a brain.

"But I'm enjoying myself Godric! I'm not supposed to enjoy myself. They should be the family from my nightmares, and evil and hateful and mean and malevolent. Not nice and understanding. And Sirius made me an ice cream sandwich. They are so nice – I've never had one before. I wish I could make you one, you'd like them. But why! It isn't supposed to be like this. Why does it have to be like this?" Harrys shoulder sagged before he continued.

"And to make matters worse, Regulus hasn't come yet! He said he would, but he hasn't. I just want him to come and get me and explain everything to me. He's not supposed to be wrong – but he is, Godric, he is! Why! It doesn't make sense. Nothing makes sense anymore." Harry was so confused. His feelings were indescribable, his brain was fuzzy, tears had started to run down his cheeks without his permission and now his head was stuffy.

"Don't cry Harry. It'll all be okay. After all, now I'm here." Harry gave a half laugh at the lame attempt of humour.

"Look – you have to think of the positives. That how I go through my days. Before you came back to me just now, that's all I had. Positives and memories. When we were in that house and I knew Regulus was hurting you – I couldn't do anything because I'm just a portrait. But I could be there for you when you came to me. I could talk to you and sooth your thoughts. And when you were gone, I missed you so much that at one stage I regretted alerting Dumbledore to where you were." Harrys head snapped up, eyes narrowing.

"But I thought of the positives. You were safe, he couldn't hurt you anymore. And now Regulus is still hurting you, but I'm here. I'll help in any way I can." Harry stood up, furiously wiping the tears from his face.

"You were the one that told them where we were?" He asked, and Godric nodded, confused.

"Yes. Didn't you know? How else would I come up in conversation?" He asked, confused. That would explain Harrys anger. He, of course, still saw no harm in the way Regulus treated him. Godric sighed. Would Harry never be free of the poisonous influence of Regulus Black?

"I was thinking about you, and Sirius said he knew where you were. And what do you mean 'yes.' How can you so easily admit to ruining my life?" Harry asked, scowling at Godric. The portrait ignored the glare. He'd had much practice with people glaring at him and, even though he hated that Harry was aiming it at him, it was easily ignored.

"How dare you interfere. Telling them where we were. We were happy. Why did you even think you should – what gave you the right to think you could-" Harry was cut off by Godrics furious voice

"Because it was killing me, watching you act so pitifully. Regulus would click his fingers, and it was like you came running. You shouldn't have to do that. Shouldn't have to be so pathetic. You are more than that. I know you're more than that."

"Why, because I'm Harry Potter – one of the boys who lived?" Harrys spat out the words in an acidic tone.

"No – because you're my Harry and you deserve more than that. Not because of any stupid title, but because you're a wonderful person and to see you reduced to Regulus Blacks fuck toy and punching bag caused me physical pain." He said emphatically, trying to get Harry to see why he did it. But Harry was far too angry to see any type of reason.

"If you were a real person, standing in front of me, I'd show you how much pain I felt when I woke up in a hospital with out Regulus – surrounded by people I hated. Except I don't think you'd be able to survive without your heart. If you even have one." And then Harry spun around and stormed away from Godric, who was yelling at him to come back. He didn't say he was sorry, though, because he wasn't.

He would never be sorry for orchestrating the rescue of Harry.

Even if he never saw the teen again.

End chapter.


	8. Reconciliation

For those of you, who think that Harry is a bit out of character in this chapter, just think for a second. For years you've had three stable things in your life, rather than the hundreds that you had before being kidnapped. Regulus, Godric and hating his family. So naturally you'd grab onto those things and hold tight. Now that Harry hasn't got Regulus, doesn't completely hate his family any more and has gone a while without Godric, he'd be desperate for some normalcy. Godric. So he'd be terrified of losing not only a friend by a calm, stable thing in his life. How would you be? I know that I, at the moment, am going through emotional upheaval and would be crying so hard I threw up. So, you know, Harry's actually being pretty mild.

Thank you for reading my AN, rant, if you have. And thanks to all my readers, reviewers, alerters, favouriters and people who have randomly clicked on this page to get away from a variety of things – like Het! Ha ha, just kidding. And yes, this story is advancing at a rather fast pace. Though I love long stories, I can't stretch things out unless that's what I originally planned. And this story was originally three or four longer chapters.

Harry ran away from Godric, and accidentally slammed into Sirius who was fending off six others from entering the dead end corridor. Hermione was leaning against a wall, glaring at anyone who tried to get past Sirius. Everyone looked at him, and Harry realised that Sirius must have put up a silencing charm to stop their conversation from being overheard.

That was nice of the man. But then, Sirius _is_ a nice man.

"How'd it go Harry?" Sirius asked. Harry was too annoyed to remember not to speak, but luckily he was too annoyed to form any words – so he just shrugged. Dumbledore smiled, and walked forward.

"I'm sure that Godric was quite pleased to hear your thanks – he hardly ever gets recognised for the things he does. Did you have a good time?" Harry nodded, smiling tightly at the old man. What a stupid, idiotic lunatic! Obviously he could not read body language or facial cues. Because Harry was so from having a good time that even a blind, deaf dead man could have sensed his displeasure.

But not, apparently, the people he currently kept company with.

"Excellent! Now, about your studies. We are aware that, though you have excellent theory knowledge, you mightn't be as good with the practical. We have organised it so you can come to the castle on Tuesdays and Thursdays to practice the practical aspects of your various classes with Professor McGonagall and Remus Lupin, who you know." Harry nodded. That made sense.

"Now, would you all like some dinner? The house elves were quite excited to see people in the castle during the holiday period and, I'm afraid, have gotten a bit excited. I hope you're all hungry." And then he turned around, smiling at the excited chatter behind him, and they were all shepherded off to the Great Hall.

The journey was not as exciting as the trip up for Harry. He was no longer excited, bouncing up and down and being fascinated by everything he saw. The light joy, the butterflies, that had been in his stomach were replaced by led blocks. The closer they got to the hall, the louder and happier everyone got. And the further they got from Godric. The closer they came to the Great hall, the more Harry was sorry for what he'd said. He wanted to go back and apologise, and say that he didn't mean any of what he said. He was just angry, and Godric had been there.

Harry had just needed to vent, and now...now...now what if...

What if Godric never wanted to see him again? That thought almost caused physical pain to the teenager, and his legs wobbled a bit. Harrys distress was visible, and he slowed down. A plan to make a run for it, back up to Godric, was forming in him mind. He'd only need to fall back a bit then...It was only a few seconds before Sirius and Hermione stopped and walked back to him. They both delicately grabbed a piece of material on his clothes, always considerate of his aversion to physical contact, and pulled him into a classroom.

"Harry, are you alright?" Hermione's voice was full of concern, and Harry dropped down into a chair.

"No, he probably hates me and it's entirely my fault." Hermione's mouth dropped open at Harry's voice. It was much deeper than she had imagined it to be. But, more than that, she couldn't believe that he could talk! Had he been faking the entire time? Well, he was a pretty good actor then, and had great control over his actions. Hermione was impressed. Annoyed, but impressed.

"Who? Godric?" Hermione noticed that Sirius wasn't in the least bit surprised. So he had known. And he didn't tell her. That, along with the fact that the two of them left her to _William_ earlier meant that they were both in for it. When Harry was a much less distraught, however.

"Yes. He's the one who told Dumbledore where we were – and then we got into a fight. He was just trying to comfort me, but I got so angry. I can't believe I told him he didn't have a heart. And now he hates me and will never want to see me again and then I really will be all alone." Harry had started to cry, for the second time that day, and his words became unintelligible.

In any other situation, Harry would be sickened by the fact that he was getting so emotional. Really, crying _once_ in any day in private was bad enough, but _twice_ in one day and _publicly both times_? It was disgraceful. Of course, Harry couldn't be sickened by that _and_ feel sick to his very core over very possibly losing Godric at the same moment.

Hermione and Sirius shared a look over Harrys head. This was obviously someone very important to Harry and, if he was important to Harry, he was important to them. Even if they both wanted to rip the portrait to shreds because he'd made Harry cry. They had to make sure that Harry was just overreacting – before they ruined him forever. Hopefully Godric really didn't hate Harry, because Hermione would hate to have a blemish on her perfect record. But if the portrait did really hate Harry, if he made him cry on purpose...

Dinner would have to be missed.

They carefully pulled the volatile Harry to his feet, trying to comfort him as they headed back up to the seventh floor.

Godric needed to see Harry again. Being satisfied with the back of Harrys head being the last he ever saw of the teen? Lie. Nothing would please Godric more than to spend the rest of eternity looking at Harry and he would rather go to Muggle Hell than never see Harry again. In the end, the best he'd get would a portrait of Harry, not that they'd put it anywhere near him, but he could go visit. If Harry would even let him, after his complete balls up.

He'd never, ever regret what he'd done. Harry couldn't live properly under Regulus' thumb, couldn't flourish into the beautiful rose that he would one day be. One day being today. Godrics sharp eyes scanned the hall intently, trying to see if Harry had dropped or left anything behind. If he had, then Godric had an excuse for talking to him again. '_You dropped a quill_,' though not the most poetic of things, definitely beat a number of things he'd barely restrained while angry.

God, why had he even thought some of those things? If he'd let them slip, Harry would probably be justified in burning his portrait.

And, because he'd been watching the hall so intently, he easily spotted Sirius Black rounding the corner and heading straight for him. Godric had nothing against Sirius, personally. He'd heard tales of the mans heroic deeds around the castle, and Harry seemed to like him –then again, Harry liked Regulus as well – but the family resemblance to Regulus was a hard pill to swallow.

A very, very hard, bitter spill to swallow.

"Godric?" He asked, and Godric smirked at the cautiousness in his voice. Godric was well known as being one of the least approached portraits in the school, with good reason. And not because he was in a dead end. He entertained himself by spitting caustic comments at anyone who dared talk to him – or even disturb his peace. Last year he'd made a total of three students cry.

A second year, first year and a sixth year student. Pathetic that not one of them was female. What was becoming of the quality of men these days? And only one student had been a Hufflepuff! Disgraceful to all three of the other houses. Really, in his day if someone even thought that a man had cried, his credibility was completely, and utterly, gone.

But Godric didn't think any less of Harry for crying. No emotions that Harry showed could ever lower him in Godrics eyes. Anger, hatred, love, lust, jealously, sadness, fear. They all just showed Godric how absolutely open and honest and amazing Harry was. Dashing all thoughts of harry from his mind, as much as was possible at least, Godric turned his eyes to Sirius.

"What do you want, Black of the white sheep kind?" He never addressed anyone but Harry properly. Black fidgeted. Godric smirked. It was good to know that he hadn't lost his touch.

"Do you hate Harry?" Godrics mouth fell open, and there was silence for a few moments as Godric was astounded by the sheer stupidity of the question. Then he snarled, wishing to tear free from his portrait and throttle the stupid wizard. The sheer _idiocy_ of that question astounded him. There is nothing, in the world, that would ever make Godric hate Harry.

And, as much as it pained him to say it, Godric wouldn't be able to hate Harry even if he went off with Regulus.

"What would ever make you think that I hate Harry?" Godric asked, glaring down at Sirius. He couldn't wrap his hands around Sirius' neck, but he could sure use his imagination.

"Well, he said that you hated him. Or at least, that's what I could make out between his tears…" Godrics shoulders sagged, and he leant against his piano. He looked back up at Sirius, sadness in his eyes.

"I made him cry?" Sirius nodded, and Godric sighed.

"So you don't hate him, then?" Godric looked up, glare once again in place.

"Are you a fool, you idiotic serpent in gold? I could never hate Harry. Nothing could ever persuade me to think an unkind thought about him." Sirius beamed, nodding.

"Excellent. He thinks you hate him, you see, because he called you heartless or something and you said he was pathetic. Even though, technically, as a portrait, you don't have a heart... Yeah, Harry didn't laugh either. So Hermione and I wanted you two to sort it out – but we weren't going to leave Harry here if you really did hate him." Sirius turned around and jogged away before Godric could respond.

Thirty seconds later, a sad looking Harry came (was dragged) around the corner with Sirius and Hermione in tow. The two of them stopped halfway down the corridor, and urged Harry on wards. It was a very rare occasion that Godric had seen such open pain of Harrys face. Normally, if Regulus caused it, he was angrier, or he tried (in vain) to mask it. The raw pain displayed tore at Godric.

"Harry…" Godric sank to his knees, almost trying to escape his portrait to wipe the tears away and remove the pain. He hated that he couldn't comfort Harry. Harry stumbled forward, falling to his knees and placed a hand against he bottom of the portrait.

"I don't want you to hate me Godric, you're the only one I have who knows everything…and…and…I need someone who knows, and won't pity me or act like they know everything. And even if none of that was true, I still need you because you're my best friend." Godric touched his hand to where Harrys was, hating that he could not feel a thing.

"I could never, ever hate you Harry. I can hate choices you make, things you do and people you know – but you? Never. Not only because you are a dear friend, but without you... – who else would I speak to? I'd certainly not get any good conversation from anyone in this dreadful castle." Harry laughed a bit, and Godric smiled. He hated seeing Harry sad.

"I'm sorry I'm so emotional, but I'm still so confused. And…and…and…" Harry trailed off, not entirely willing to voice his fears just yet. Godric didn't seem to mind, though, and continued to soothe Harry until he was completely recovered from crying (for the third bloody time today) and the emotional exhaustion, though still there, was masked under apathy.

"Harry, we should head down to dinner, because we'll have to leave the castle soon." Harry turned around and nodded at Sirius, before turning back to Godric. He gave the portrait a smile.

"Don't worry; I have lessons here every Thursday and Tuesday until the start of the school year so I'll come and visit. And then school starts. I just bet you're going to make me late for classes." Godric laughed, before shooing Harry away. He wanted Harry to get to dinner and eat. He was far too thin already.

Lily Potter turned around, intent on asking Sirius once again how he'd found the portrait so quickly, only to see Sirius, Hermione and Harry disappear into a room. Ever curious and slightly worried at the looks on Hermione and Sirius' faces, she handed Marianna off to James and said she needed to go to the bathroom.

Quickly sneaking up to the door, she pressed her ear up against it. She could try for a spell, but they might over hear her voice. Which would be bad for Harrys trust in her, which was already abysmal. She didn't mean to snoop, but Harry was her baby boy! She couldn't leave something alone if she thought it concerned his wellbeing. What if he was still traumatised by what happened like the mind healer said? She would need to know so that she could help.

Lily would not stand idly by as her son suffered.

It only took her 0.5 seconds for her to identify the third voice in the room as Harrys. She _knew_ he was faking. Harry always sang in the shower as a child, he couldn't help it. He just hopped in, and started to sing with out realising it. Ever since he came back he had either taken a bath, or had loud music playing if he showered.

And sometimes his mouth would twitch, like he wanted to say something, but realised that he couldn't.

Lily continued to listen, and her heart sank for her dear boy._ Why_ would anyone hate her precious boy? How cruel and callous would that person have to be? And when she heard his crying through the door…her own heart broke. He poor, poor baby.

Then the red headed woman had to do some quick thinking as she heard them approach the door. She only had a few seconds, but successfully made it to a small alcove. Her night time wanderings with the Marauders helped with one thing, even if it wasn't house points.

And then Lily followed the three of them, and stopped behind a suit of armour as Sirius turned a corner while Hermione and Harry stopped where they were. They weren't actually that far away from the portrait – only a few corridors. Sirius returned, and all three rounded the corner. So Lily moved up to where they were previously. Looking around the corner, Lily felt tear come at the sight of her precious baby falling to his knees and begging for the portrait not to hate him.

Then, after she saw that everything would be alright, she made a quick dash for the Great Hall. She was extremely glad that the portrait hadn't actually hurt her baby. Otherwise she would burn the fuck out of him. Gladly. She might've been banned from walking Hogwarts unaccompanied, or even fined or charged. But she'd do it for her precious younger son. Luckily she didn't have to. Although, she did have an idea. Which meant she would have to talk to the portrait who practically threw acid on his visitors.

Well, what's family without a little sacrifice?

Weeks passed, and Harry adjusted easily to his new routine. Most days he'd spend with either Hermione or Sirius or both of them. Harry had once wondered what Sirius did for money, since he didn't have a job and just seemed to hang around Godrics Hollow all day. But then he realised that Sirius had old family money, which would probably last through several generations sitting around and not working.

On the days he wasn't with Hermione and Sirius, he was either with Lily, McGonagall or Remus. Lily would help him with theory things if he didn't understand, or just commandeer him so that they could '_bond_.' Harry didn't understand what brought on her sudden want to connect with him, and was slightly creeped out by it, and he wasn't entirely sure that it was a good thing. Then again, he wasn't entirely sure it was bad, either.

On Tuesdays he was with McGonagall, and on Thursdays he was with Remus. Then, for an hour or more afterwards, he would sit and talk with Godric. Godric, who was a great comfort, even if Harry often stormed away angrily. The reason? Regulus.

Harry could still remember cutting himself off when he'd gone to apologise to Godric. What he had been going to say was that he wasn't even sure if Regulus was going to come back for him. At first he had been _so sure_. Everything he needed had been packed, ready to abscond with Regulus the second the man came – a moments notice. But the wizard hadn't come yet and, one by one, things went from being in a bag to being in the room he slept in. The room where he slept which had somehow, _somehow_, turned into _**his room**_. Harry was gaining more possessions, as well, and those were scattered around his room.

Even though Harry had cut himself off, it seemed that Godric knew him well enough to guess his train of thought and, whenever it drew close to the time when Harry left, he would say a few sentences on the subject. They varied from '_Regulus is not good for you_,' and '_that filthy paedophile-rapist should rot in a dungeon somewhere_' to '_I hate him_,' and '_I hope he doesn't come back_,' as well as everything in between.

Sometimes Harry would ignore it, but other times – like now, Harry would storm away. Normally he only stormed away because he was feeling particularly raw about Regulus and his continued absence. A quick glance back at Godrics face confirmed that he knew this too. Smart bloody bastard.

Harry was particularly sensitive about Regulus today because months had passed since his promise to come and get him. Today was Tuesday and, on Friday he would catch a train to Hogwarts for the beginning of term. On Wednesday Harry was going shopping in a crowded Diagon alley with an overprotective Sirius, bouncy Hermione and a fierce Lily, and Thursday he had lessons with Remus. There was no way that Regulus would be able to snatch him away before the start of term.

This meant that he wouldn't be seeing Regulus until Christmas, four months away. If Regulus even decided to come get him then. For all Harry knew, Regulus had decided that he wasn't worth it. He could be in a different country, settling down somewhere secluded to live out the rest of his life. Maybe with a new lover, a couple of pets and a beautiful view. And Godrics comments, playing on his fears and insecurities, were not helping in the least.

At the moment Harry knew that he was only being paranoid. But if things kept up like they were, Harry didn't think he'd be able to trust Regulus when – _if?_ – when he did come for him. And that thought scared him more than anything had in a long, long time.


	9. Portraiture

_A.N: Sorry it's taken me so long to update. At first, I was just lazy, but then I had exams, so I had to study and then my brain needed a reprieve from everything. But Here it is, an update, for you, my dear readers. Also, I don't own Harry Potter. I do claim ownership of a dog, but he doesn't own Harry Potter either. _

xxxxx

Harry, personally, felt extremely awkward walking in silence next to his mother. Everything was too quiet; the awkward silence kind of quiet. The only background noise was their footsteps and breathing. It was kind of creepy; especially since recently Lily had been using every spare minute trying to bond with him. Why wouldn't she on the last day before he went to Hogwarts for the first time? Harry narrowed his eyes.

Something was going on – especially since Lily had arrived home in the early hours of the morning with an air of happiness about her. She had ignored all questions relating to her mysterious absence, and Harry had felt suspicious then when he had had no idea that it had something to do with him.

Just as Harry was getting bored and curious enough to retrieve a pen and paper from his pocket, he saw something that made him stop. All of the mother son bonding must have made him delusional, because Harry thought he could see someone who should not be walking the halls of Hogwarts. A person who shouldn't be walking the halls of anywhere, because they should be a portrait. Harry knew it was a mirage, hallucination, some type of delusion or his imagination, but rather liked the way Godrics leg muscles visibly moved in the dark tights he was wearing.

Godric leant against the stone wall and looked at him, a sly smile on his face.

"Why Harry, fancy seeing you here." Harry started forward again, faster than he'd been walking before. That had been there standard greeting for years. It had been funny, since neither of them had anywhere else to go. Harry because he was a prisoner and Godric...Harry actually had no idea why Godric had stuck around for so long. He'd have to ask. Later. That was Godric, his best friend and confidante - even if it was only a hallucination of Godric the Portrait outside of a portrait with a devilish smirk on his handsome face.

Harry reached Godric, stopping a few steps away from him. The two of them looked at each other for a while, and then Harry extended his hand. Just as he was about to touch Godric, or alternatively have his hand slide through and touch depressing stone, Godrics large, calloused hand grabbed his and pulled him in for a hug. Their hands were pressed between them, and one strong arm was wrapped around his waist and holding him tight. Harry hugged back.

Harry realised that Godric was taller than Regulus by a few inches. With Regulus, Harry could comfortably rest his chin on the man's shoulder. Now, however, Harrys face was pressed into the base of Godrics throat. Harry took a deep breath through his nose, and decided that Godric smelt musky and a bit like vanilla. He didn't smell, or feel, like a painting. And he looked much better than he had as a painting. Felt much better as well.

Harry pulled back from the embrace slightly, and Godric reluctantly loosened his hold on Harrys hand. Godric placed his now free hand on Harrys hip, while Harry ran his hands down Godrics arms and poked at his face. Lily, though she didn't like the way that ex-portrait was looking at her baby, turned and walked away. She really did need to speak to Remus urgently and Harry wouldn't speak if she was there.

Her footsteps faded away, and Harry flicked Godric on his forehead. The man flinched at the sharp pain, frowning.

"Thanks for that. Just what I needed." Harry laughed, pulling the taller, definitely older man into another hug. It was a wonderful sensation, to feel completely comfortable with someone after not trusting anyone physically for the previous half decade. Harry had never been a fan of physical contact, even before being kidnapped, and no one had ever been able to make him relax in an embrace. Especially not Regulus.

But this was _Godric_, who had been there for him and had no ulterior motives. Harry felt instantly relaxed around the man and was grateful for that.

Harry pulled back from the hug once more, and grabbed a handful of Godrics hair. He held it up to the light, and squinted as he looked at it. He smiled, patting the chunk of hair back into place. Godric gave him an odd look, placing a hand on his forehead and leaning in a bit.

"Are you feeling alright – You seem slightly more insane than you were on Tuesday." Harry laughed, raising an eyebrow.

"And you seem slightly less portrait like than you were on Tuesday." Godric smiled, rolling his eyes. Harry grabbed Godrics hand and looked around, before pulling him down the hallway.

"Did you know, Godric, that you have red hair? A very, very,_ very_ dark, dark kind of red, but red nonetheless." Godric nodded. Yes, he did know what his hair colour was. What did that have to do with anything? Probably nothing. It was Harry and, when he got like this, he was completely unpredictable. But Godric loved when Harry was like this. Harry himself felt freer, lighter, than he had in a while thanks to Godric. And he wanted to share the feeling.

"Where are you taking me?" Godric asked as Harry continued to pull him through the hallways and down staircases. Harry turned around, but didn't stop his bouncing walk, a huge smile on his face.

"A better question, Godric, is where aren't I taking you." Godric rolled his eyes, but allowed himself to be led. It would be no good arguing against Harry, because the teen would win. As long as no one mocked what he was wearing, everything would be fine. Harry glanced back, eyes darting down to the tights in mention, before turning away with a snigger. Godric gave him a half hearted glare. As long as no one but _Harry_ mocked what he was wearing, everything would be fine.

"And this is an unused classroom..."

"This classroom is normally used, but there's no school right now so it's empty..."

"This is a hallway..."

"...Bathroom..."

"...Library..."

"...Staircase..."

"...Doors..."

"...The grounds..."

"...Great hall..."

"...Kitchens..."

"...Stairwell..."

"...Trick stair..."

"...I'm...not exactly sure what room this is." Harry was standing in front of a large mahogany door, the likes of which he'd never seen before. Of course he didn't have the most comprehensive knowledge of the school, giving Godric a whip around, basic tour which was much less extensive than the one he'd been given, but he'd walked down this hallway before and that door had never once made an appearance.

"I know what this room is." Harry turned to Godric, who was smiling.

"This brings back memories." He muttered, running a hand along the door before grasping the handle and turning it. Inside there was...a kitchen. Harry smiled, jumping into the room.

"This is exactly what I was looking for. I knew the house elves wouldn't let me make something but now – oh, pizza." Godric shook his head, walking in and leaning on the counter. He opened the pizza box and pulled out a slice, taking a bite before talking.

"This room was made by the founders when, upon discovering that they had no where to place their children in the castle, needed a room that would accommodate the needs of the carers taking care of the children. You think of something, and it will appear." Harry thought for a second and, when he looked down at the counter, the pizza box had disappeared and in its stead was some ice cream and slabs of chocolate.

Harry grinned and started to make ice cream sandwiches as Sirius had done for him on his leaving hospital. Godric looked at is suspiciously when Harry placed it in front of him.

"What is this?" He asked poking it with an extended finger, before taking another bite of the pizza.

"It's an ice cream sandwich. Sirius taught me how to make them." Godrics good mood immediately vanished. He knew that he had absolutely no reason to hate Sirius as much as he did. He wasn't his younger brother, and they likely had nothing in common other than their looks, but Godric couldn't quench the hate he felt for everything that carried the name Black.

Regulus had caused so much pain and that had tainted Godrics view on many, many things.

"Try it." Harry insisted, lifting the sandwich to his mouth and taking a large bite. Godric watched him eat for a few seconds, before Harry looked at him and smiled. Godric sighed, picking up the sandwich and taking a bite. It was odd, to say the least. It tasted okay, but he wasn't really a sweets type of person.

He nodded that he liked it, regardless, when Harry asked him.

Godric chewed through the chocolate, shivering as the cold ice cream met with his teeth, and though about Sirius Black. He appeared to be a good man, and Harry praised him a lot. But Harry also thought Regulus Black was a good man. As he ate the sandwich, openly watching Harry happily munching away, he wondered about Harry and Sirius.

There was a small voice inside his head that wondered if there was anything more between the two of them. Harry had said it himself, he felt really comfortable around Sirius, not completely comfortable, but more so than anyone else he knew away from Regulus.

Godric didn't want to ask Harry about it, didn't want to chance a fight when he had to get Harry back to his mother soon. But he knew that he had to ask because what if there was something going on between Sirius and Harry? Godric couldn't let Harry be drawn into a relationship as detrimental as the one he'd been rescued from.

Admittedly, Sirius probably wasn't as fucked up as Regulus, but he was a Black. Godric subtly pushed his sandwich into a convenient bin, and Harry finished his. He stood from the stool, but Godric stayed seated.

"Harry. I need to ask you something." Harry sat down, hearing the seriousness in Godrics voice.

"What is it?" Godric sighed, rubbing his face.

"What is Sirius to you, exactly?" Harry frowned for a second before understanding dawned on his face. Then his expression turned stormy.

"What exactly do you mean by that Godric?" Godric winced at Harrys angry tone, but steeled himself. He needed to know if bones needed breaking or not.

"I mean are you intimate with him like you were with Regulus." Harry scowled, crossing his arms.

"Not that it's any of your business, Godric, but no. Sirius and I are not fucking, nor will we ever be having sex of any kind. For that to happen, I would have to cheat on Regulus. Which I would never do."

"I can't see what you see in him. He's an evil person. The things he did to you..." Godric trailed off in anger, not even able to verbally express what he was feeling.

"Regulus is not evil. He just had a different way of expressing himself." Godric snarled, slamming the kitchen bench.

"A different way? He could have used his words, like a normal person would. He could have written a letter or used sign language or arranged flowers on the ground. Instead, he beat you, tortured you, _raped_ you, Harry. Can't you see that what he did was so wrong?" Harry turned his head away stubbornly.

"What about if I or...or Sirius started to do those things to you. You would not see it as a twisted form of love, you would hate us forever for breaking your trust. Yet your trust for Regulus has been built on those very things." Harry continued to ignore him, and Godric knew the conversation would start going in circles very soon. He didn't want to fight with Harry just before he left, but at least his question was answered.

"Come on Harry, you should be getting back." Harry slid off the stool and walked out of the room quickly, Godric following along slowly. The walk back to the headmasters office was silent and seemed to drag on forever.

Finally they arrived at the stone gargoyle, waiting for someone to come along with the password. Steps were heard faintly on the stone floor, several corridors away, and Godric finally turned to Harry.

"I'm sorry Harry, I didn't want to fight with you. I just wanted to know if-"

"If I was a slut, or some type of whore. I get it Godric, you don't have to explain."

"No, Harry! That was not what I was thinking at all. I just never want to see you hurt, and if Sirius was hurting you then I would have to do something about it. I just couldn't find a way to express myself properly, and we got into a fight because of it." Harry looked at Godric from the corner of his eyes.

"You'd hurt Sirius if he hurt me?" Harry asked. Godric shook his head, smiling.

"I'd kill him." Harry smiled up at Godric, but didn't say anything else as the footsteps drew nearer. Soon enough, Lily rounded the corner with Remus. She had a smile on her face, while Remus looked pensive.

"Hello boys, the password is Bounty." Remus finally said, and the gargoyle jumped aside, allowing the four of them access to the headmasters office. The door was open, and Lily said quick goodbyes, while Harry gave small waves to the three men in the office, before the floo swept the two Potters away.

Coming out of the floo, Harry barely maintained his balance, while his mother sprawled out on the floor. She glared at the edge of the rug, which was now upturned, before smiling at Harry.

"I have a surprise for you Harry. Come with me." She led Harry up to his room and opened the door. This surprise was much less welcome than the surprise of Godric – which he'd forgotten to ask for details about. His room was packed up, completely. He turned to Lily Potter, and Sirius and Marianna appeared in the doorway.

"We have something to tell you Harry. We want to know your opinion before we do anything. But we need to know quickly, because James will be home soon." Harry looked at the three of them warily, completely unsure as to what was about to happen.

"Harry this might be a shock to you but...I'm leaving James for Sirius. I'm taking Marianna with me and want to take you. But before you make up your mind, we need you to know something that could change the decision you make." Harry relaxed a bit. He'd seen the boxes and his first thought had been that they were kicking him out.

Regulus would have been proved right, but Harry had felt his heart freeze at the fact that they didn't want him. Harry pushed that revelation away, determined not to think about it until he was alone. Or never.

Harry cocked his head, inquiring as to what they wanted him to know. Sirius cleared his throat, stepping forward a bit.

"Harry, well. Ah...I have something to tell you. You're not actually James child. I'm your...your ah...biological father." What Sirius had said didn't penetrate Harrys mind for a second, and all he could think about was what that he'd never seen Sirius so nervous before. But then what Sirius had said grabbed hold of his brain.

If Sirius was his father...if Sirius Black was his father, his real, blood father...then that meant that...meant that...

Regulus Black was his uncle.

Fuck.


	10. Hogwarts

_Okay. I've just finished this chapter, and it's ten past eleven in the morning. I haven't been to bed yet. Any mistakes are purely based on that, and the fact that I just embroidered a hair ribbon in between writing this chapter. I have realised that life must go on, no matter what loss is suffered. Updates will still be sporadic – but then, they've always been like that, haven't they? I hope you all enjoy this chapter. Tell me what house you think Harry should go in. Please, cause I've got no clue. Also, if you could give me your reasoning, that would be good. _

_xx_

It was the first of September; Hogwarts day. Harrys first day as a student of Hogwarts. Even if it was only Friday by a few minutes. Last night it had taken a relatively short time to relocate to Sirius' place from the Potters' house. Harry had heard about Grimmauld Place from Regulus. Dark, dank, creepy portraits, an insane elf, musty, decrepit. Harry had stepped out of the fireplace, and wondered what exactly had happened to the house of Regulus' child hood.

The walls were a nice shade of light blue, there were wide windows which let an obscene amount of light in. The curtains had little fishes on them. The only portraits were landscapes, the only photos of the Marauders, of Lily and the kids. Everything in the house, upon first look, seemed to be bright and obscenely happy.

The Blacks would all be turning in their graves.

Not that they weren't already, what with Sirius as the Lord Black, after all.

Harry had actually just finished unpacking, had been on his way downstairs actually, when the fire place had flared. James Potters voice had roared through the house, and Harry had mentally thanked Sirius for temporarily making the floo into a 'fire call' only model. James hadn't been able to walk through.

Harry was kind of glad that Sirius was his father. After all, he liked Sirius better. Sirius was a good man. Sirius was kind to him, respected his no touching policy, and didn't push him to talk in public. Didn't force him to talk in private, either. James was an arsehole, trying to erase years worth of being a dick, a bad father and husband as well as a fame obsessed moron with a couple of months of reverting back to his old behaviour. He wasn't trying very hard, and he completely ignored his previous behaviour like it had never happened instead of trying to make amends.

Harry was glad James wasn't his father.

But Sirius was...

That meant Regulus...

He couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that Regulus, his Regulus, was also his Uncle. Well, he could, but he was choosing not to. Maybe if he ignored it, then it would go away. Except that that wouldn't work. If he ignored it and Regulus came for him – the if being _if_ he ignored it, _not_ if Regulus came for him - then he'd feel as if he was hiding something, and Regulus would know. The man would not be happy to know Harry had been keeping secrets from him.

But if Harry told Regulus, would Regulus shun him? Never want to see him again? Never want to be with him again?

Incest wasn't really that uncommon in the Wizarding world. Second cousins, cousins even, married and procreated all the time. Hell, the Carrows took incest to new heights. It was rare that families condoned Uncle/Aunt – Niece/ Nephew relationships. But, was it really so bad when both he and Regulus were men? They couldn't have children with each other, so there wasn't a chance of malformed, squib children or anything.

There shouldn't be any reason for Regulus to reject him. It wasn't like Regulus was his father or anything, just his Uncle. Oh god, what would Sirius do if he found out? He already had a vague idea that Harry had been ... used ... in that way. His rage had been overwhelming. Things had been broken, blown up, shattered. The things that hadn't been wrecked had only been saved because Lily had stunned him.

Harry could barely imagine what would happen if Sirius found out the extent of what Harry and Regulus had done together. If he found out that it was Regulus who had done it. His own brother, fucking his son.

Wasn't this just like some fucked up, gay version of Days of Our Lives.

Harry sighed, looking at the clock in his new room again. Ironically enough, the room Sirius had remodelled for Harry to have was Regulus' old room. It was the same bed that Regulus had slept in while he grew up. Regulus had muttered to him once, while they were both hovering between awake and asleep, that he'd been so lonely at Grimmauld Place. He'd tried to be the perfect son, and in doing so had isolated himself from Sirius.

He'd tried to get closer to Sirius, and his parents grew angry with him. He couldn't win. He was always alone, and he felt his loneliness even more at night. He'd lie awake and wish for someone to share his pain with. He'd carved things into the wooden bed frame, which Harry was currently tracing with his fingers. Occasionally he'd even tell Harry about the hate which eventually filled him. He hated his parents and everything they stood for but, more than he hated them, he loathed Sirius.

Harrys fingers trailed over a carving; the one word symbolised what drove Regulus, in the end, towards the Dark Lord. More than wanting to please his parents, more than following the values that were ingrained into him since birth, his feelings for Sirius drove him towards everything that his brother opposed. Sometimes, when Regulus spoke to him about his hate, it was like everything but his anger disappeared. He never spoke of his plans though, he'd gloss over them, but it was clear what Regulus longed for.

_Revenge_.

This was, more than likely, the most awkward things he had ever experienced. Sirius was sitting on the other end of his bed, an equally uncomfortable expression adorning his face. Lily had forced him to go and talk to Harry, see how he was talking the revelation that he wasn't a Potter, but a Black. Actually, thinking about it, Harry was the Black Heir. In the event of Sirius' death, Harry would be first in line for the Lordship rather than Regulus. Then again, Regulus had been legally declared dead around the time that Harry had been born.

Still, even if he wasn't 'dead', Harry would still be the preferred candidate.

"So, uh, do you need to vent about the current state of upheaval that you must currently be going through at the moment because of the thoughtless way that I blurted out the truth about me being your birth father." Sirius was so experienced in being forced to speak to people that Harry barely even noticed his eyes flicking towards the palm of his hand. Harry rolled his eyes.

"How long is she making you stay up here with me?" Harry whispered, and Sirius shrugged.

"Until you release the pent up emotions so obviously held within you, under a tight leash." There was a moment of silence, before both Sirius and Harry sniggered. Sirius reclined on Harrys bed, the teen still in his pyjamas (because it was nowhere near eleven and Harry could sleep in – or, as much as you could sleep in when you only fell asleep at five in the morning).

"But if you do have a problem of the Sirius kind, or even a serious problem, you know you can talk to me, right?" Harry thought about confessing about how he now felt like vomiting after that disgusting Sirius/serious joke, but decided on a simple '_I know_' instead.

"And now are you ready for the really awkward part?" Sirius asked, and Harry leant back slightly, raising an eyebrow. Could he escape before he Sirius opened his mouth again? No, probably not.

"As a young man, I know you're going through many changes. You'll start to feel urges. I myself, as a young man, felt many urges. And many women. The only difference between then and now, actually, is that I only feel one woman. And she feels really, really nice." Harry reared back, slamming into the headboard of the bed, with a horrified expression on his face. Sirius didn't not just say that (especially not about Lily).

This was _not_ happening.

"You will start to notice women, where you did not notice them before. Breasts will suddenly go from seemingly unimportant, squishy female bits, to all important fun bags where – if you're lucky – your face will spend many joyful hours. You will also be discovering the use of your own hand, for when fun bags suddenly become unavailable, tempting items of seductions used by witches everywhere to get men to do what they want."

Harry wasn't sure whether to laugh, or curl up into a tight ball and cry until it all went away. He didn't need to know about women's 'funbags' or why he would use his hand. Sirius opened his mouth again, probably to say something else that would mentally scar and make Harry grope in frantic pain for the mind bleach. Harry cut him off.

"Sirius! Stop talking. I don't want, or need, to hear any more." Sirius raised an eyebrow, shaking his head.

"Harry, Harry, Harry. Compared to the sex talk I had with my father, this is a walk through a rainbow filled park." Harry was horrified to think of what Sirius' father, Harry grandfather, had said.

"He walked into my room when I was thirteen, gave me a stern look and said, '_the penis goes into the vagina. That's how sex works. That's what you do._' And then he turned and left. I shit you not, that was my sex talk." Harry did laugh this time, his head thrown back as he howled out his mirth. That was a beautiful, beautiful story. Eventually, he calmed down.

"Well, that wouldn't have gone down well with me." Harry said, not thinking, as he gave a little chuckle. Sirius tilted his head to one side.

"Why not?" Harry stopped chuckling. Well, this would be the first father son trial, it would seem.

"Because I'm gay. There's no vagina for the penis to go in." Sirius nodded, his mouth making a small 'o' as he took this in.

"Okay." And that was it. No '_have you ever tried being straight?_', no '_really? You sure? Really?_' Just acceptance. Harry smiled. Sirius still seemed a bit confused, though, and Harry decided that it was time for a bit of payback.

"Would you like me to give _you_ a little talk, Sirius?" Sirius shook his head, but didn't get any words out before Harry ploughed on.

"When two men love each other, or at least was to have sex, then there is obviously no vagina. However, this problem is easily solved -"

"Stop! Okay! I get it. No more sex talk. We shall never bring this up again, because you're my son and I love you. I never want to think about you having sex, and I don't want details. And I don't want to know any specifics about gay sex because I am perfectly happy with fun bags." His hands were held out is a defensive position, his eyes squeezed shut and he had a perfectly horrified look on his face.

"Okie dokie then. You can continue to be perfectly heterosexual, and I shall continue to be perfectly homosexual. And we shall never speak of this again, or of this conversation, or of any topics covered – agreed?" Sirius nodded, and they both relaxed. The silence was broken when the clock hit nine forty five. It was time for Harry to get up and showered and dressed.

He was already packed, so he wasn't running around like a headless chook being chased by a large, scary thing.

(Lily.)

xxxx

The first half of the train ride was rather pleasant. Nice scenery, he had a good book, Hermione was also reading, and they shared a bag of freddo frogs, and some chocolate frogs as well. But then came the second half, most of which was pleasant – it was only slightly marred by idiocy. Their carriage door was slammed opened, and William Potter was standing in the doorway, Ron Weasley to one side of him, Ginny Weasley to the other side.

Harry had seen them only occasionally through the summer. They didn't seem too bright and apparently liked William. The two facts might be connected, though. His twin – but somehow paternally different, he'd have to send Lily a letter about that – sneered at him, not even looking around the carriage to see who else he'd just disturbed.

"Oh look, it's the illegitimate Black spawn." He said, and Harry rolled his eyes, looking back down to his book. His peaceful train ride had been ruined. Harry wasn't actually illegitimate anymore. Sirius had officially recognised him the previous night, after James head had exited the floo. While it was good for his standing in the Wizarding community, and the doors it would open when he got older, it was another hit to his relationship with Regulus.

He had always been a bit sore that, after Sirius had walked out at sixteen, his father still hadn't disowned him and made Regulus the heir.

"What; got nothing to say for yourself?" Hermione's eye flicked up at this. Never a William Potter fan, she practically lit up at the opening his stupidity afforded her.

"You are aware that Harry doesn't talk, aren't you? Or are you simply too stupid to understand what _mute_ means? I'm afraid I'd given you a bit more credit than that. After all, you spent the summer living with your brother. I thought maybe your I.Q would have left the negatives purely be being around him. I guess Osmosis only works on single celled organisms. Actually, I can't see why it didn't work." William sneered.

"He's not my brother." Harry smiled at Hermione. She was obviously torn between obvious glee at the constant flow of stupidity that bled from Williams mouth, and absolute horror that someone could honestly be that dumb.

"He's still your brother, as you have the same mother. And he's still your twin, because you were born together. You are merely fraternal, half brothers as well." William opened his mouth, but Hermione held up her hand and he automatically snapped his mouth shut. Harry shook his head. He felt slightly sorry for William. He had it bad for Hermione, who was almost physically repulsed by his presence.

Harry always felt giddy when she talked about his brother. The absolute hate was electrifying. If he wasn't already in love and a complete fairy, he would think Hermione was the perfect woman for him.

"William, I want you to listen closely to what I say." Her voice was deceptively soft, and Harry closed his book slightly, ignoring the hungry gaze of Ginny Weasley roaming all over him. It made him a bit nauseous. William nodded dumbly, his gaze so adoring that Harry felt a bit ill.

"Get the fuck out before I put you out." She ended in a growl, pushing him back a bit and slamming the door shut, drawing her wand and locking the door. She turned and sat down, adjusting her hair slightly and picking up her book again. Harry picked up his wand and silence the cabin, thankful that magic on the train wasn't counted as being in violation of the underage magic decree.

"You amaze me sometimes." Harry said, and Hermione shrugged, eating a freddo frog.

"But do you know _how_ I'm Sirius' kid, but William isn't?" Hermione nodded, swallowing the chocolate. Harry had told her first thing on the train that if she ever referred to him as a Potter again, he would have to hit her.

"You were simply conceived at different times. The sperm from James Potter fertilized one egg, and the sperm from Sirius Black fertilized another. These eggs became William and you, respectively. I heard of one case where a woman was pregnant with twins, but upon closer inspection, when she was nearing her due date, it was discovered that one baby was actually a month or so younger than the other child and not ready to be born." Harry nodded, shrugging. He didn't really think it mattered too much.

"She also had two vaginas." Harry shook his head, going back to his book as he tried to disregard the information. He did not want to know anything about the female anatomy – especially not after his – _nonexistent_ – conversation with Sirius. But Harry couldn't explain that to Hermione, so he just threw another chocolate to shut her up, and they both went back to their books.

xxxx

The sorting was awkward.

Harry didn't get to go into the threstal drawn carriages with Hermione, no. He got to ride across the lake in a rickety little boat, and three first years had been made to squish in with him. Harry got a whole bench to himself, while he forced those three to share a bench. Luckily one of them was waif thin, and another was a petite girl. The last one, a boy, was of normal sizing.

Harry was glad, because he'd been worried for a second that the population was getting smaller, or maybe there was a food shortage. But it's all okay, because they're just first years. They tried to talk to him, but Harry didn't talk back. Their obvious anger at being 'blow off' was amusing. He couldn't wait until they found out that he _didn't_ speak. Their whispers were loud and hurtful. If he was five.

Harry had to duck something fierce to get past the low vines and castle wall.

He had been pressed against the pre teen kids in a way that was so very wrong and awkward to avoid falling in.

Then he'd had to wait with them, all the little kids whispering about him as if, just because he was twice as tall as them, he couldn't hear. Then in came the ghosts, who scared the shit out of the first years. That was a good, cathartic moment.

Then they were taken to the great hall; McGonagall giving him a pitying smile. His pain must have been obvious. And then they walked in. Harry could ignore the ceiling, he'd seen it before. It was harder to ignore the other students staring at him, pointing, whispering.

Bloody people.

There was a reason that Harry didn't like to be around people. It was bad enough being in a small boat with three others. God, he'd have to share a dorm room! Hopefully the newness of his arrival would fade, and he could slide into the background along with it. That was wishful thinking, though. He'd be crowded.

He hated crowds.

That was another thing that made Harry think William was stupid. He liked being the centre of attention, as well as large crowds.

Obviously he was touched in the head.

The attention of the crowd continued to centre on Harry, even as the first years were sorted. There was the normal applause from the receiving houses, but nothing over the top – just enough to be polite for the new kids. The children milling around Harry thinned, before finally everyone was gone. And then Harry really was at the centre of every ones attention.

"Harry Black." Harry smiled, a big toothy grin. That was excellent. He hadn't even thought that his last minute, late night name change when he was recognised as the legitimate child of Sirius would be recognised by Hogwarts. McGonagall couldn't believe it either, as Harry headed towards here. Her expression was most confused. It was reflected on the faces of almost everyone in the hall. Harry, who had been previously staring at the floor, looked up at the staff table.

Remus wasn't surprised, and Godric was only mildly surprised – but there was clearly a bit of confusion and anger. Wait, what was Godric doing at the staff table? Harry couldn't remember Godric mentioning it, but he'd only been alive again for three-ish days, and probably hadn't had time to tell Harry that he'd be teaching.

Maybe Godric did mention it, but Harry had been thinking of something else. Or of his tights. They were rather distracting. Harry wondered if the man would wear a proper pair of pants to teach. He hoped not, it was too amusing to watch him prance (It was rare for Godric to walk) around.

Harry sat on the stool, and Professor McGonagall placed the hat down. Harry had a second or so before the hat touched his head to think about the hat itself. For about a thousand years, every student in Hogwarts has had it placed on their heads. Harry wondered how many times the hat had been washed.

'_I'm not washed nearly enough, Mr. Black, but that is inconsequential. Let us see what is inside that brain of yours._' It was disconcerting to have a voice speak inside of your head. You could hear it, but couldn't at the same time. There was also an odd kind of echo to it, as if the voice was ricocheting off the inside of his skull.

'_Hmm, you have a very strong character – continuing on through the trauma you've suffered. But then, some would call you daft for the way that you adapted. And you're incredibly loyal – unwaveringly so._' Harry didn't think he was that loyal, there weren't many people he was loyal to.

'_Ah yes, very selective aren't you. Sneaky, too. Hiding your voice from everyone to get out of what you'd rather not be involved in. Finding entertainment in others stupidity and pain, and yet you are kind._' Harry could almost feel the hat scoff in his head.

'_That's really helpful. You're a complete contradiction of character. You'd condemn people for doing something, and then excuse your Regulus for doing the exact same thing. And then there's that tricky problem of the two of you being such close blood relations. You certainly have problems a plenty, and they won't leave no matter where you go. In fact, Ravenclaw is the only house I can rule out off the bat._' Harry wondered if the hat could just choose, because people were still looking at him and he didn't like it.

'_Ah, that's more like it. You hate being centre of attention. In Gryffindor your brother could share the burden with you. But it's more likely that he'd ostracise you, point you out and try to bully you. I've been inside his head, and that is his logical course of action. In Slytherin, you could be in the spotlight again, because of your half brother. Or they could accept you because of your Black blood. Both are possible and plausible. It's dependant on the current power plays within the hosue. The Hufflepuffs, however, would integrate you seamlessly. You would not stand out in there. The rest of the world, however, might watch you closely – but they'd do that no matter which house I place you in_.' Harry wondered if the hat was trying to make him choose.

'_Yes, I am. Now, which house do you want to serve your sentence in?_' The hats insidious little voice asked, and Harry shrugged his shoulders.

'_Fine. Better be..._'

xxx


	11. Meanwhile, back at the Ranch

_I was looking through the favourites of an author, and was at no 400 when I came across my own fic. At first, I was completely ecstatic! Actual physical proof that I'm on a fave. List (not counting the stats page, or the emails I get). And then I was aghast, because it was no. 400! This fic must have not been updated in a while. So I got off my metaphorical tush and started writing. _

_Of course, the fact that I was viewing them by category only just crossed my mind. Sigh._

_Finally got it to upload. Score!  
_

Harry smiled at Hermione as he slid into the seat next to her. She had saved it for him, snarling viciously at William when he'd tried to move her stuff and seat himself. Harry rather thought that she was practically an embodiment of the lion emblem she proudly displayed on her breast. They were in Defence Against the Dark Arts, their first class for the year. Harry had decided that the stupid hat must know something, as his housemates had left him clear alone.

It had been marvellous.

He'd been shown his house common room, where he'd be sleeping, and then no one had tried to approach him. It might have had something to do with the sneer or imperiously arched eyebrow he gave to anyone who had tried to make friends with him during dinner, or it could be that he was a Black. The Griffindors would have surely tried to breach his icy exterior, or at least wouldn't have left him alone.

The Slytherins, Harry thought, would have respected his privacy – at least in public. Harry had learnt, through Regulus, that they were a surprisingly social bunch inside their own common room. They also had house politics, which dominated most of their interactions. Harry did not even want to venture into that minefield of school.

The Hufflepuffs were perfect for him. He ignored them, they stayed away from him, he glared, they ran away from him. Perfect. The only downside was that, having looked at his time table this morning, Harry had discovered that he spent all his lessons with Ravenclaw – bar his Defence Against the Dark Arts classes.

Harry looked to the front of the class, ignoring the furious glare of William, somewhere behind him, and waited for the teacher to begin the class. He did not have to wait long, as a broad figure stepped out from underneath the staircase that had once been used as a magnificent entrance for a self absorbed fool. Unbelievably dark red hair, jade eyes and a slight quirk to the mans lips drew sighs from many of the female students. Harry smiled at Godric, who returned it with a huge grin – causing more sighs.

Harry wondered if Godric even noticed. It was hard to tell, sometimes, with the once portrait. Sometimes he seemed all too aware of the things he did, and other times he was clueless. A girl had exclaimed too loudly about him being '_completely shag worthy_,' and Godric had overheard. The girl had blushed bright, but Godric had only been confused, asking Harry why he was worthy of carpets.

Even Harry wasn't that bad. Sure, he'd been almost completely isolated for years but, before that, he'd still been exposed to current culture. His F- Sirius had delighted in teaching both he and William all sorts of dirty things.

Harry was trying not to think of Sirius as his father while around Godric. Harry could tell that, with his last name change, the ancient man was worried about him. He probably thought that Regulus had come from him, which is preposterous because Harry would most certainly not be at Hogwarts, wouldn't be in Defence Against the Dark Arts with Godric and Hermione, if Regulus had come for him.

Harry quietly ignored the tightening in his chest at the thought of never seeing Godric of Hermione again.

Expertly ignoring the slowly growing part of him that was wondering if Regulus really would come for him.

"Good morning class!" Godrics deep baritone reverberated around the room, and Harry smile grew a bit wider. He would not dwell on '_what if's'_ – they would not help his self-confidence, his sense of personal happiness or how much he enjoyed what time he did have with his friends. Or, well, friend and Teacher.

Was Godric allowed to be his friend, and his teacher?

Harry supposed so – if he could shag his Uncle, he could befriend his DADA teacher.

Walking across the class room to the blackboard, Harry was only slightly surprised to see that Godric was still wearing tights. The tights looked as if they were painted on. Harry gave a silent snigger. The tights had, indeed, once been painted on. It was lucky the man was wearing a long tunic, because otherwise some of the students might try and get him reprimanded for indecent exposure. Or take photos.

That _would _be funny.

Harry grabbed his parchment and quill, quickly writing down what was being written on the board by an enchanted piece of chalk – he would have to remember to not snicker at the clothes Godric was wearing until they were alone, and he could make Godric wonder what he was laughing about. The jade eyed man was staring to cotton on, Harry thought, but hadn't really picked it up yet. He probably wouldn't be wearing tights if he had.

Harry started off into space once more, space which was conveniently occupied by his teachers chest, and wondering if Godric would actually wear something other than tights. Loose trousers would probably be awkward for him, but Harry imagined that he would manage to pull it off. After all, the man could make bloody tights work!

Hmm, maybe Godric was actually Merlin in disguise – because that was a miracle.

Jolting himself back to reality, and wondering when he'd become so fascinated by Godric and his tights, he quickly continued to write down about this coming semesters course outline. He didn't notice Godrics light and happy gaze locked onto him or Hermiones curious brown eyes flicking between Harry and Godric.

"Ha-Mr. P- Black. Mr. Black." Godric finally got out the name he was supposed to call Harry by, and the raven haired teen paused, bag hanging out of his hand, paused on its way to his shoulder. Hermione had already gone on, eager to get to her next class and not having to wait for him, and Harry was one of the last students left in the class. The Gryffindors had transfiguration and did not want to anger their head of house, while the Hufflepuffs were eager to get outside and enjoy their first free.

"I would like to talk to you about you lack ... of ... attention ..." Godrics piercing gaze followed the last student, a Gryffindor, out the door, before he completely trailed off. He turned to Harry, his gaze happy but serious.

"Harry." He was silent, not wanting to broach the subject of Regulus and ruin the happy mood they were both obviously in, but still needing to check. Harry gave him a thin smile, shaking his head.

"He has not come for me, yet." Harry said. Godric smiled happily, walking over to his desk and then sitting on it. He thought for a second, before he frowned. He was about to ask about his name change and, quite frankly, Harry did not want to tell him yet. Maybe later.

"You're not a very professional teacher." Harry commented, and Godric raised an eyebrow.

"You don't like my teaching?" He asked, and Harry shook his head.

"I didn't say that, Godric. I merely meant you're obviously not a professional. Sitting on your desk, jumping around the room, wearing tights…" Harry trailed off, and Godric rolled his eyes.

"Is that what this is about? My tights?" He scoffed, waving the issue away. Godric had decided that, coming from Harry, anything to do with his tights should be taken with a grain of salt. He had been worried, for a bit, that his clothing was not appropriate in this time. Everyone seemed to be wearing robes. Ghastly things, Godric had never liked them. He had only worn them for formal occasions, thankfully he hadn't been painted in robes.

He would have had to kill the artist, if the man had tried to paint robes on him.

Septima, Aurora and Charity (all wonderfully nice) had assured him that his tights were perfectly acceptable when he'd asked them. Even Minerva had given him a smile. Obviously Harry was merely toying with him.

"Then how did your last name change come about?" Godric was not one to be deterred from a subject. Not often, at least. And, right now, the only thing that would make him stop pursuing the subject was if Harry professed his undying love (or something similar in a physical way) or –

"Can we come in, Professor?" A small voice asked. Godrics first year class was milling around outside and Godric nodded, waving them in. Harry smiled at Godric, chuckling at the look on his face.

"I'll see you later, Professor." Harry chuckled, and sped out the door.

XXXX

Regulus Black snarled as he continued to pace. He had been in this small room for hours, pacing. Wall to wall, his enraged gaze flicking around the room, looking for something to spark his inspiration. He could find nothing – had not been able to find anything for the _months_ that his Harry had been away from him.

His dear, precious Harry.

Alone with those fucking _Potters_. They ruined everything.

His mind was still young, he was open to manipulation. Regulus had used that to his advantage many, many times – but the thought of someone else doing that?

The sound of a chair breaking broke up the silence. That was the last bit of unbroken furniture in the room. Regulus sighed, looking around the room he had trashed. It had been some kind of sitting room before Regulus had stormed in. Now it was in tatters. The muggle paintings that had been on the walls were destroyed, the curtains in tatters, furniture smashed and broken, wooden splinters scattering the floor.

Regulus kicked a large piece of chair of out his way as he exited through the door. He stopped, just outside of the room, and felt the complete rage boil up again. He had no way of contacting Harry that he was absolutely sure wouldn't be intercepted. Harry could be forgetting about him – or replacing him. But his beautiful Harry would never do that.

Would he?

Regulus took a deep breath. No, of course Harry wouldn't do that. But ... he had probably been hanging around Sirius Black – the Lord fucking Black. Sirius wasn't as perverted as the rest of his family, but Harry was simply beautiful to look at. Maybe Sirius would be tempted? Hogwarts was back in session now, probably, so maybe some unworthy fucking kid would take a liking to Harry?

But Harry would never betray Regulus like that.

But then, why shouldn't he? Regulus had kidnapped him, brutalised him in ways that child probably hadn't even known were possibly, and had then warped his brilliant little mind. Maybe someone had been trying to fix – to break! – his Harry. And Harry would let them, wouldn't he? Oh, of course he would. And, as payment for 'helping' Harry, the raven haired teen would let them fuck him.

The little slut probably begs for it as well. How dare he! That stupid fucking whore. How could he just forget Regulus, abandon him like that! Regulus had started to love Harry, and this is what the child does in return? Just spreads his legs for some other man.

Well, Regulus would never let his Harry just slip through his grasp. Regulus would continue to try and find a way to get his little slut back, and when he did...oh, when he did Regulus would make the boy _scream_. Harry would regret cheating on Regulus, he would regret throwing everything Regulus had ever done back in his face.

Harry did always bleed so beautifully.

Godric.

The thought just popped into Regulus' head, and things just seemed to shift into place inside the Death Eaters head. Of course. Godric had alerted the Aurors. Godric was probably with Harry at Hogwarts, right now. Worming his way inside Harrys head, ruining everything Regulus had ever worked for.

In fact, he was probably the one fucking Harry. Not physically, of course, but Harry probably bent over in front of his portrait, his delicate fingers working himself open. And that Merlin damned fucking portrait would encourage him. Whisper his sick fucking fantasies to his Harry.

Maybe Harry brought along... toys...so he could pretend that it was Godric inside of him. Maybe Godric convinced the little whore to bring other people into the mix. And who would, who could, resist Harry? If Harry were to walk up to another student, his eyes half lidded, and beg to be fucked who would care if they were having sex in a hallway, in front of a portrait?

Regulus had never minded fucking Harry in front of Godric, in as many ways and positions as possible. Because Godric was a fucking portrait, and would never be able to physically touch Harry. It had even been one of Regulus' favourite past times – to take Harry over the piano, at exactly the right angle so Godric could see everything.

Regulus had always been torn between complete anger that the portrait hardly ever left, or amusement. Regulus would watch Godric sometimes, while the portrait was too engrossed in watching Harry to realise he was being observed. The way the painted eyes would darken as Regulus spread Harry, the look on his face when Harry cried out.

And Regulus loved to taunt the portrait with it when Harry wasn't around.

Because Godric would never have Harry.

Except now the little slut was at Hogwarts with Godric, doing unmentionable thing with the portrait – for the portrait. It was too much for Regulus to take. Thinking about Harry lusting after the portrait as much as he wanted Regulus pushed him so much further than anger. Regulus turned around and ripped the old door off its fucking hinges, stalking through the house. He walked to a nearby balcony and looked over Little Hangleton.

His master didn't care if he destroyed the house, preferred it, actually. Regulus had resigned from the school in the best manner physically possible. He'd massacred the entire population, all the children screaming as he cut them down like the animals they were. The aurors already knew where he lived, so Regulus had had some fun. He was in Riddle manor, now, taking care of his master.

His master had told him to be patient, to wait. His Lord had promised that Harry Potter would be delivered to him on a silver fucking platter. Regulus eagerly awaited that day but, until then, he felt his anger rise and rise and keep rising. Every time he thought about Harry, he thought about all the ways the little whore was being unfaithful.

Hadn't Regulus been good to him?

And this is the way Harry repays him?

Oh, Regulus felt his blood boil every time he thought of that little fucking bitch. Harry would enjoy it, having his legs wrapped around someone elses body. Having them spill their seed deep within him, in a place that no one but Regulus should ever have the pleasure of being in. But Regulus would wait, oh yes he would wait, and when he finally had Harry within his grasp again, things were going to change.

He'd been too lenient on the boy, yes, much too lenient.

He would make Harry bleed and scream and cry and beg. Oh, how Harry would beg him – beg him for more, beg him to stop, beg him for _mercy_. Regulus would not give his little one mercy, though, mercy was too good for that whore – taking other people inside his body. Regulus vaugly entertained the idea of letting some of the other Death Eaters play with Harry for a little while, since the boy obviously liked to fuck around, but decided against it.

No, he would be the only one that Harry would be with ever again. And the reunion would not be sweet and happy and filled with declarations of love, like Regulus had first foolishly thought it would be. There would be a constant melody of Harrys screams in the background, and the boys precious blood was stain the sheets irreparably. Regulus would remould Harry, even if he had to break the boy severely to do it. It wasn't like it had been a chore last time.

And, after all, it wouldn't be breaking him. Regulus would be fixing him.

Repairing his Harry to what he was supposed to be.

In the most painful way Regulus could think of, obviously. Harry could not go without punishment. What Regulus had planned for his dear Harry, his love, would make the initial time Regulus had spent brutalising the child look like a walk through a rose coloured, cotton candy filled fucking park.

But oh, Regulus could not wait for that fun to start.


	12. The Letter

It was the first Quidditch match of the season and Harry was, obviously, not enthused. Why in the world should he care if Slytherin trounces Hufflepuff or not, regardless of whether or not he was in Hufflepuff? Quidditch was boring; flying would never be able to take him to the dizzying heights he'd already experienced.

He didn't want to go to the game; however, Hermione had persuaded him. The little witch, Harry didn't know how she did it. Always, constantly, getting him to do various things – most of which he had no wish to do. If Harry didn't know better, he might be inclined to say she was using some sort of mind control curse, but Harry knew better.

She was just a very, very clever witch who was very capable of making people do things.

So Harry got dressed, pulled on a scarf – thankfully not one bearing his house colours – and walked to breakfast. Most people weren't there yet, Harry woke up earlier than most of the schools population, including some teachers, and was only preceeded by Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall to breakfast, so Harry sat down and ate in peace. Or, he tried to eat in peace.

A large figure settled next to him, dark hair pulled into a low pony tail, jade eyes mischievous and a handsome smirk made Harry acutely aware of who was sitting next to him.

"The level of inappropriateness and unprofessionalism you continue to show always astounds me." Harry murmured, his lips barely moving. He was getting good at talking in public; not one of his peers had yet to realise that his voice worked. Godric smiled a bit wider, but didn't respond, instead picking up the end of Harrys scarf and rubbing it between his fingers.

"You're wearing the scarf I gave you." His smile softened from ridiculously too happy for six oh five in the morning, to a gentle smile. Harry gave a brief smile in return.

"I'm glad you like it, I was afraid you wouldn't." Harry raised an eyebrow at Godrics confession. Why would Harry not like the scarf? Not only was it warm and fluffy, but the colour was a dusky grey – and it was Godric who had given it to him. Harry was only the slightest bit ashamed to say that he would've worn the scarf no matter what it looked like.

Even if it had been bright orange, with hot pink accents, he would have worn it.

Not that he'd tell Godric that, the bloody man would probably get him one.

Godric continued to sit facing Harry, straddling the bench seat, as he stated piling food onto the closest plate. It was only on the weekends that they could eat meals together, and even then only breakfast. Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall allowed for their friendship, and for Godric to eat at a table that was not his designated one.

Although, Godric was quite sure that, if anyone on the staff ever found out exactly how deep his feelings for Harry ran, then he would summarily be fired and not allowed within twenty feet of the boy or the castle.

This meant that he had to keep everything at an appropriate level, something that was actually easy to do. Harry was still unaware that Godric did not see him as merely a friend, and the teacher refused to scare off Harry with inappropriate, unwanted advances.

If his advances ever became wanted, however, Godric would probably try to sprout wings and fly, shout his love from the roof tops and ravage Harry – at the same time, if he could at all manage it.

But he was well aware, _painfully_ aware, that Harry was in love with _Regulus_. Even in his mind, Godric spat the word as if it physically offended him. While Harry still held hope for Regulus returning and sweeping him off his feet, Godric would not stand a chance. He had no hope if Regulus came back, not a single hope for a future where Harry saw him for real, loved him. Even now, while the threat of Regulus' return hung over him as a vague promise of maybe, he had very little hope.

As much as it would hurt Harry and, in turn, hurt Godric, the red haired man would much rather Regulus never returned. In time, Harry could learn to get past his feelings, but until then all Godric could do was shower him with gifts and praise and as much love as he could, wrapped in a neat little package under the guise of friendship.

That little Gryffindor girl might be catching onto his act, though, so he'd have to be careful – around her, at least.

A small smile spread across Godrics face; now was the perfect time to confront Harry about his last name change. There were no students to overhear, and he couldn't distract Godric with several of his usual strategies because there were two other professors in the room.

"Will you tell me how you've come to be Harry Black, now?" Godric questioned, and Harry blinked, his bacon filled fork hanging just in front of his mouth. He blinked, before eating the bacon. He thought for a few seconds, prolonging his answer, before nodding. This would, actually, be the perfect place to tell Godric.

He couldn't make a scene because of the two professors, and there was no one near enough to over hear their conversation. Harry nodded again as he swallowed, and Godric waited with baited breath to hear the answer he wasn't really sure he wanted to know. What if it was something really horrible? Harry opened his mouth.

"My last name has changed, Godric, because my father is not James Potter." There was complete silence, Godric not moving at all, and then Harry continued.

"Sirius Black is my biological father, and he has recognised me as his legal heir, and will likely be marrying Lily Potter as soon as the divorce between her and James Potter is finalised. I suspect she will get less than five minutes of being Lily Evans again before she is swept of her feet." Harry took another bite of hiss food, and Godric blinked.

And blinked again as he tried to process that. And then, all at once, it clicked in his mind – everything clicked. Everything he's every known about Regulus and Sirius, from the younger Black ranting in front of his old portrait like he was in a play and soliloquies were going out of fashion.

All the dots connected in his head like a plate being thrown at a wall, the pieces spelling out something he should have seen coming, the sharp edges getting ready to bite into Harry, preparing to cut into his delicate heart and make it as black and withered as Regulus.'

But how to tell Harry, how to let him know without causing him too much pain?

How to make Harry believe what's really going on?

This was going to make Harry cry, it was going to hurt him, and rip into his barely healed wounds and then grind the precious teen into the dust.

And Godric would take every tear, every heart broken sob out of Regulus pathetic hide – he would make the man scream and beg for fucking _mercy_.

But you know what?

Godric is going to laugh in his fucking face at his screams for mercy, because he never showed Harry any mercy – never when he really needed it, and Godric would make sure that Harry was never hurt by Regulus again.

But how to stop it happening in the first place, that was the question.

Godric was jerked back to reality by a hand waving in front of his face, amused green eyes boring into his own. Harrys lips were quirked up at the end, and he had finished his breakfast, whilst Godric had barely started, to busy staring at Harry, and then lost in his thoughts.

"Sorry, lost in my thoughts." Harry snorted in amusement.

"I'm not sure what's scarier, the fact that you actually have thoughts, or that they're so unfamiliar that you get lost in them." Godric chuckled, shaking his head and subsequently freeing most of his hair from its tie.

Harry noticed and, correctly assuming that Godric wouldn't notice for a long while, especially as it was the weekend, and then probably wouldn't care anyway, stood up. Circling around his friend, Harry knelt on the bench and gently tugged at the knot, freeing the rest of his hair. Biting on one end of the tie, Harry brushed Godrics hair from his face, and pulled it back, before rebinding it and leaning into speak softly to Godric.

"Tying your hair between your shoulder blades in ineffective at binding your hair, and keeping it bound." Godric shrugged, unable to stop the goofy smile that spread across his face, and Harry returned to his seat.

It was almost six thirty, and Hermione would be down soon.

_.break._

The Quidditch game was as boring as Harry had imagined it to be, but he'd clapped half heartedly when it was appropriate and, just to infuriate those around him, when it was severely inappropriate – like when the Slytherins scored.

Hufflepuff had lost, but they house had a party anyway – celebrating the good game. Harry was seeing a pattern emerge with his house mates. Everyone thought people went into Hufflepuff because they were undyingly loyal. Harry thought they all went there because they seemed to have a combined love for parties.

It was as if they had a party for the simplest things.

They had house wide birthday parties, start of the weekend parties, a new school year party, if someone has a birth in their family there's a party, if someone has a death they celebrate the persons wake. Harry seriously wondered how they were not intoxicated all the time. Even the first years were allowed to drink, though there were spells to ensure that they didn't consume too much.

More than that, Harry was surprised that some of his house mates hadn't died from alcohol poisoning. Weren't you supposed to die from a ridiculously excessive amount of alcohol in your body? When it gets in your blood stream?

Obviously it didn't apply to wizards and witches, as Harry had seen one of his compatriots down one bottle of firewhisky, some Russian vodka and then, just to make sure his parents should plan his funeral, also drank an entire bottle of absinthe.

All. By. Himself.

Hufflepuff should be renamed, maybe Delta Tau Chi?

It seemed appropriate, at any rate.

For some reason, though, Harry found himself at this Hufflepuff party. He didn't know why, he'd been a bit bored – Hermione had a group assignment to work on, and Harry had declined her invitation to join them. Still, it didn't seem much of an excuse to be standing in the common room with a glass of … something in his hand. It had a faintly green tinge to it and, after having a sip, Harry had realised that it was a very potent mix of vodka and absinthe.

He'd taken another sip anyway.

In a corner, nursing his drink, Harry had been the only one to hear or see the owl tap at the window. He'd let it in and discovered that the letter was intended for him. Upon seeing the hand writing on the cover, Harry had almost dropped his red plastic cup.

He didn't know what to do. If he read it in the dorm, he might be walked in on, but he couldn't just leave it – it was from _Regulus_! He'd have to leave the common room, but what to do with his drink? He shouldn't just leave it – that would be irresponsible. What if one of the little ones toddled over and downed it? No, no, no – that just wouldn't do.

So instead Harry threw his head back and downed the rest of his drink in one, barely blinking at the intense, fiery burn – it was definitely not the worst sensation he'd ever experienced – before he tucked the letter away and headed out of the common room, walking in the same perfectly coordinated way as always, despite his fuzzy head, much to the surprise of some of the watching Hufflepuffs.

A girl in one of the older years, who thought that their oldest new 'Puff was too serious, had given him the cup – pushed it into his hands – and, having experienced the exact same mix before, knew it could knock over even experienced drinkers.

Harry didn't know it, but respect for him in his own house rose. Where before they would tolerate people saying bad things about him, after that night the 'Puff would stick up for him, claiming him officially as one of their own.

Harry didn't know any of this, of course, as he wandered through the halls, tying to find a place to read his letter. His vision started to blur slightly, and he blinked a lot, squinting as he stumbled down some steps. He was a bit lost now, just a bit, and all he wanted to do was read his letter.

After wandering around for a bit, Harry came across a corridor he was familiar with, very much so. It was the corridor which housed Godics rooms. Harry smiled, because he knew that the older man would let him in and allow him privacy in which he could read his letter.

Knocking on the wooden door, Harry leant against the wall while he waited for the door to open. After a minute or so, the door opened to reveal Godric, in his tights, sans shirt. Harry stared for a few minutes, blinking, before he grinned at the man.

"Unprofessional Godric, but I like it. Suits you." Harry said, the last few words slurring together a bit. Godric stared at him for a while, before blinking in shock, his eyes going wide.

"Harry, are you … are you drunk?" Harry giggled, shaking his head.

"No – silly. I've only had one drink." Harry stepped forward, and Godric wrapped an arm around his waist, regardless of whether Harry could walk on his own or not – he didn't want to chance it. Besides, he'd heard about the things people could put into drinks these days, horrible, horrible things, and if Harry had only had one drink…

"What was in your drink, Harry?" Godric asked, shutting his door before bringing Harry to the couch in his sitting room, seating himself next to Harry and allowing the much younger man to cuddle up next to him.

"Just some absinthe, and a bit of vodka." Harry said, and Godric raised an eyebrow, only one drink? And Harry had, more than likely, never had more than the occasional glass of wine with that piece of scum.

"Where'd you get the drink, and why are you here?" Godric asked, and Harry shrugged, before rummaging around in his pockets. He finally pulled out a sealed envelope, waving it proudly in the air.

"There was a party, but then an owl delivered this to me! Looook Godric – a letter! From Regulus, my Regulus." Harry cackled in delight, opening the letter and pulling it out, his gestures overly exaggerated his desire to be careful with the letter. Harry held it up, as if to begin reading, only to blink and tilt his head to the side. He then began a series of exercise, moving the letter to and from his face, up and down, and tilting his head to different angles.

"I can't read it, nothings clear – will you read it for me?" Harry asked, looking up at Godric. His eyes were large, the brilliant green orbs staring into Godrics own dark jade, and Godric cursed inwardly. He didn't want to read a thing that the cur had written, let alone to Harry, but he could not deny the boy many things, especially when his body was draped over Godrics like it was.

Godric nodded, taking the parchment from Harrys fingers, and treating it in a decidedly less gentle manner than Harry had done moments before. He held it up so he could see it better in the dim light of his rooms. He had been about to bathe, thus the state of his current undress, and was glad he hadn't put on a shirt to answer his door when he'd caught Harry blatantly staring at his chest, and then a bit lower, with a hungry abandon – and then the smile he'd given.

The Cheshire Cat would be envious, that's for sure.

'_Dearest Harry,_

_Have you been well? I hope you have been well, and having a pleasant time without me – but I know you have. After all, you have Godric, why in the name of Merlin would you not be having a pleasant time? _

_I bet the two of you have been having fun without me, but don't worry Harry, soon I will come and get you. I will come and get you, and I am going to punish you for having sex with other people.'_ Godric faltered, how on earth did the letter go frm enquiring about Harrys health to accusing him of adultery? Was this the way that Regulus' mind worked?

'_You should not have thought you could get away with it, Harry, I know you – I know that you need me, but you shouldn't try to replace me – I will be coming soon, coming for you so soon. You will be mine, and I will make sure you still know who owns you. You are my toy, mine to have and to break and I want you to remember that. _

_I also want you to remember what it was like when you were first with me. Because you've been so bad, spreading your filthy legs for other people, I think I'll have to resort to that – and do far, far worse to you._

_I'll be there soon, love,_

_Regulus.'_

Godric blinked. If that letter was an accurate representation of the way Regulus' mind worked, then Godric was scared for Harrys safety, more than he ever has been. Regulus' time without Harry has not proved good for his psyche. Godric turned to look at Harry, frowning when he saw the look of mixed shock and terror on his face.

"He's going to put me back in the dungeon, Godric. Back in the dark – he's going to hurt me. Peel off me skin and stab at my insides, he's gonna hurt me so bad – but I didn't do anything Godric, I swear I didn't. I've been good, I've been a good boy, I've been so good. Why doesn't he trust me? I don't want to go back to the dark, it hurts in the dark and the silence…I don't like the way I can't her anything more than my own breathing and the way blood drips into a puddle."

Godric placed one hand on Harrys cheek, the other resting on the back of his neck, trying to focus and ground the boy who was, quickly, starting to hyperventilate. His eyes were glistening with tears, and it was likely that his inebriated state was enhancing his emotions, taking his memories and making him remember everything with such clarity that he hadn't in a long time.

And he was scared or Regulus, and what the man could do to him.

Even though this was, technically, a step towards Harry stopping his love of Regulus, Godric wishes that the letter had never been sent, because the sheer fear and pain on Harrys face ripped into his own heart as if it was he who was scared of Regulus.

"Shh, shh, Harry, I know that you've not cheated on Regulus. You're too good for that, too precious. I won't let him put you in the dungeon, you won't go back to the dark. I won't let you." Harrys bottom lips trembled as his frame was wracked with sobs, tears staining his face.

Godric cradled Harry to his chest, hugging the fifteen year old tightly to his chest, not minding that he could feel his chest start to become wet with Harrys tears. Harry was mumbling now, begging Regulus to believe him, to realise that Harry had been good, that he loved him, that he would never do anything like that. Godric was helpless to do anything but hold Harry, rubbing soothing circles into his back, as Harrys mind tormented him.

Godric wondered if Harry was having a conversation with Regulus in his mind, begging for forgiveness that even Harrys mind knew would likely not be granted. Regulus was a harsh man, harsh and bitter and, more than likely, in-fucking-sane.

Harry worked himself up so much that he was barely speaking now, unable to get words out between the painful sobs that brought tears to Godrics own eyes. And then Harry reared back, vomiting all over the two of them. Godric grimaced as the smell reached him, reaching over to grab his wand. He quickly cleaned them with a spell, but realised that the smell was still there, and he really wanted a bath now.

But how could he leave Harry, just to take a bath? Harry _needed_ him, right now. Then again, Harry would probably benefit from a bath as well. Maybe it would clear his head, soothe him. And Godrics bath was big enough for them both to stretch out and not touch each other at all.

"I'm going to have a bath, Harry, and you're coming with me. It'll calm you down and I promise I won't look." Much, Godric added the last bit in his mind, because he didn't figure Harry would appreciate it much. Of course, if Harry said no, then it wouldn't matter anyway.

"Okay Godric, let's have a bath." Harry said, and Godric couldn't help but smile at the childish look on Harrys face. Godric easily picked the teen up, his weight barely even having an impact on Godrics tightly muscled frame, and walked them both over to his bathroom. He seated Harry gently on the closed toilet lid whilst he ran the bath, moving to undress Harry while they waited for it to fill up.

Godric prodded Harry into action, but the teen only managed to shift his body so that the man could pull off his clothes. Though Harry had vomited the alcohol back up, a lot had obviously already been assimilated into his system. Godric quickly stripped off his own pants, before carrying Harry over to the bath.

Harry was still crying, silently though, and somehow his quiet pain was equally as damaging to Godrics own heart. Godric was silent as he relaxed against the side of the bath, Harry settling easily between his legs. Grabbing a washcloth, Godric started to rinse Harry off, starting with his mouth and face, and slowly moving onto his chest, continuing his soothing motions from before, the heated water helping to calm the distraught boy.

And, as Harry started to calm down, relaxing completely against Godrics chest and soon falling into the easy lull of sleep, the ex-portrait felt an emotion that can only be defined as self hate. Harry was resting against him, completely trusting Godric – trusting Godric enough to fall asleep whilst naked in a bath with him. He would never even think that Godric would think of taking advantage of him.

And here Godric was, holding Harry firmly against him with one arm, the other resting on the rim of the bath – he could almost convince himself that he was as good a person as Harry obviously seemed to think he was. Except he was hard as a fucking rock, and Harry had shifted so that Godrics cock was nestled between his arse cheeks, pressing stiffly into the sleeping – completely unaware - teenager.

Godric scowled. He felt like he was just as bad as that piece of fucking _scum_, but he knew he wasn't that bad – Godric didn't think there was anyone else on the face of the planet who was that bad – but he felt pretty damn close. After all, Regulus Black would not hesitate, he wouldn't even have to think about abusing the sleeping, maybe unconscious, boys body. He probably wouldn't even care if Harry was injured in the assault. Godric, however, would never dream of doing such a thing to Harry, who was too precious for words. He might have thought about it though, briefly - for half a microsecond. After all, he was only human - and Harry was very beautiful. Sighing mightily, Godric shifted Harry slightly so that he could wash his own chest.

He resolutely ignored the way that the sensation of Harrys naked skin moving against his own sent shuddered through his body, stubbornly disregarding the way his dick jumped at the accidental caress of Harrys arse.

He was such a dirty old man.

But Godric quickly finished his bath, made sure that the sleeping teen didn't drown, before getting them both out of the bath and drying them, averting his eyes from Harrys nude, wet form. It mattered little, he'd already seen Harry naked – had seen Harry spread out on a carpet, his blood staining the carpet as a sadistic bastard abused his body.

Godric dressed Harry in a pair of tights, leaving the boy bare chested, before clothing himself in the same attire. Carefully as possible, trying not to wake Harry up, Godric slid Harry into his large bed, before tucking him in, and hopping in the other side. He was not touching Harry, as much as he wanted to, as much as his hands were twitching with the absolute _need_ to hold Harrys body against his own, Godric only watched Harry, making sure nothing untoward would happen to the not sober sleeping teen, before he drifted off to sleep himself

_.break._

Godric was woken up, a few hours later in the middle of the night, by Harry tossing and turning, mumbling and muttering. Jade eyes blinked open sleepily before he sat up, leaning on his elbow, and he reached over to shake Harry awake. His hand hovered just over Harry, not touching him, as he listened to what Harry was saying.

"No…no…nononono…please, don't – stop! Regulus, please, I'm sorry…" Godrics jaw clenched; even in sleep, Harry couldn't find any relief.

"Please…Godric…help…save me…" Godric dropped his hand in shock, jolting Harry awake. The teen bolted up, eyes wild and still clouded with the terror of sleep. He looked around, until his eyes alighted on Godric. He sighed in relief, moving closer to the large man.

"Godric, it's just you." He murmured sleepily, shuffling over so he was closer to Godric.

"I'm glad you're here, you can protect me. I'm safe with you." Harry settled, his eyes flickering shut now that he was assured of safety, and fell back into sleep, bypassing his troubling dreams and plummeting into a deep, resting sleep.

"I'll always protect you, Harry." This time Godric didn't bother to restrain himself, reaching out and pulling Harry close to himself, wrapping his arms around the sleeping Hufflepuff and revelling in the feel of the warm, content, body against his.

Godric couldn't help the smile that spread across his face, even as he started to drift off into sleep himself. No matter how worried he was about Regulus coming for Harry, no matter how angry he was at the conniving bastard, regardless of how scared he was for Harrys safety, he would sleep soundly that night. Not only did he have Harry in his arms, safe and sleeping soundly, but he'd over heard Harrys dreams – his nightmares.

In Harrys nightmares, it had been Godric he'd called out to for help.

When he'd awoke, heart pounding in his chest so loud Godric had practically heard it, eyes darting around in the unfamiliar room in his fear, he'd calmed instinctively when he'd seen Godric.

No matter the devotion that Harry showed to Regulus during his waking hours, in the middle of the night, Godric knew who it was that Harry felt safe with. He knew who Harry trusted to protect him.

Godric now had something to hold onto – proof that Harry needed him, maybe not in the same way that Godric needed him, but it was a need, nevertheless.

Godric had saved him from his nightmares, protected him in his nightmares.

Hell, that meant he'd been in Harrys dreams; the protagonist to Regulus' antagonist. And damn, if that didn't make his heart swell with pride.

No matter what Harry said, no matter what he tried to tell himself, he was aware of the fact, even if subconsciously, that Regulus was no a good man. He wasn't the good guy, not the man that you were supposed to ride off into the sunset with.

And there was his hope for the future, in that one moment that barely spanned a few minutes.

His hope for a future with Harry, his beautiful, broken boy.

_.end._

_Okay, there you go guys. Chapter 12. A lot happened in that chapter, didn't it? Godric figured it out, can you guys? And a step forward in the so far one sided Godric/Harry relationship, and maybe a step backwards with the Regulus/Harry one? Who knows? Concrit is appreciated, as well as the pointing out of any mistakes that i've made. Until next time, chickadees, keep reviewing and favouriting and alerting and c2ing and just reading in general. _

_Hell, just do that voodoo that you do so well. _

_I love you all – so grab a can of mace or something, because I am fucking creepy. _


	13. Afternoon

_**Triumphant return. Oh yeah. Sorry it took me so long. Still haven't got a computer, and have been writing everything by hand. Now I can't type properly, haha. Awkward. Thank you to everyone for your well wishes and offers of help and sympathy. That damn fire made me give up my misanthropic ways. What a bastard. Anyway, here's the next chapter of Black Velvet, terribly sorry it's so short. Am trying to update everything, so most chapters will be a little short. Withour further ado, go read. **_

x

The pair slept in late Sunday. In all his years, Godric could only recall a few times in which he had slept as soundly, and none of them had happened since he'd regained his body. And Harry simply couldn't remember having such a content sleep. He didn't even remember his nightmare, only being quite sure that he'd had one for some reason, but he didn't dwell on it. Actually, he couldn't remember why he was in Godrics bed, or even his rooms, at all. It was with that revelation that Harry broke the silence. Both of them had been silent and still, trying not to let the other know they were awake.

"Godric – what happened last night?" The worst part, Harry knew, was that he didn't care what had happened last night. He should be freaking out, especially waking up half naked in Godrics bed, but he wasn't. A few months ago he would've been frantic for answers, needing to know that he hadn't done something to drive Godric away or, worse, done something that would anger Regulus. Both of which could have the conclusion of him ending up half naked in Godrics bed, by the way. And yet, he wasn't desperate for answers. He was unconcerned. Hell, he could've had sex with Godric last night and he didn't think it would've fazed him. Harry honestly didn't know where his sudden apathy regarding Regulus and the behaviour he should have had come from. It sure as hell hadn't been there last night.

"You got drunk, got a letter from Regulus, got lost and came to see me." Harry frowned as he tried to remember. He remembered the Hufflepuffs wild, but regular, party and receiving the letter. His memory started to get vague as he wandered the corridors. The last really clear thing he could remember was Godric opening his door half naked. The teen felt a blush spread across his face, glad that his hack was pressed against Godric. And then he blushed some more for thinking that.

"Those are the parts that I remember, Godric. Care to enlighten me some more? What did the letter say?" There was hesitation in Godrics every more as he accio'd the letter into the bedroom.

"I'm not sure you should read it Harry. It's a good thing you forgot." Harry shook his head and held his hand out for the letter.

"I'll be fine, Godric." Harry insisted.

"It made you hysterical." Harry turned in Godrics arms, completely comfortable in the larger mans embrace in a way which he didn't want to think about.

"Last night I was knocked off my feet by absinthe and vodka. I'll be fine." He grabbed the letter. Godric held on for a second, tightening his grip, before releasing the letter along with a sigh. He waited for Harry to read the letter, watching his face anxiously. His face was blank, however, with nothing to suggest the content of the letter. If Godric hadn't himself read the words contained on the innocent looking piece of parchment, he might think it was an ordinary letter. He knew better, however.

There was silence as Harry lowered the letter. Godric slid it from his fingers, rolled over and placed it on the nightstand, before laying next to Harry once more.

"He's not really stable, is he?" Harrys voice was dull, as if inquiring about a subject he found particularly bland, or speaking of the weather. Godric pulled the stunned boy towards him and into a hug. That was the closest thing Harry had ever come to badmouthing Regulus and Godric was quite sure that it was a sign of progress. Harry, meanwhile, was wondering about his own mental state. Maybe his subconscious had remembered the letter better than he, because he wasn't shocked at the accusations. That could be the reason for his lack of care about where he'd woken up this morning. To be honest, though, Harry had been waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Not like this, but nevertheless, he had been waiting.

He was actually unsure if Regulus would ever come for him. It seemed now that, if he did, his lifespan would either be significantly shortened or encased in misery. Harry felt bad about the fact that he didn't want Regulus to come and get him just to torture him. Maybe, if only, Regulus had not sent him that letter, then Harry would still want him to come, sweep him off his feet and spirit him off somewhere. Burying his face deeper into the crook of Godrics neck, he wondered when his life had gotten so complicated. Rather, he wondered when so many options for his future had opened up.

Once there had been nothing but Regulus. He had been content with just Regulus, if not perfectly happy. But was anyone ever perfectly happy? Harry had been content to be content. But now there was a choice. A horrible, horrible, wonderful choice. A choice of Regulus, or anything but Regulus. And he wanted, so badly did he want –

The deep, rumbling tenor of Godric broke him out of his contemplation. Harry looked up at him.

"I won't let him Harry, I swear. No matter what you want, or feel, I'm not letting him do anything else to you. No dungeons, no torture, nothing. Whilst I live, he will not take you." His voice was harsh, firm and unyielding. He cared what Harry wanted and what he felt but he could not sit by and do nothing, not again, and certainly not now that he had a body. Nothing Harry could say would change his mind. Every argument would just reinforce his opinion that Harry couldn't go back to that filthy piece of scum.

"He will not take you, and you will not go to him" Dark jade eyes burned as they looked down at Harrys beautiful face. He was completely solemn as he thought about Godrics vehement declaration. He honestly seemed willing to do whatever it took to keep them separated and keep his word.

"Okay." Harry said simply. Godric opened his mouth, ready to dismiss Harrys argument, and then blinked. That…hadn't been an argument. That had been an agreement. Was that even physically possible for Harry to do? Godric closed his gaping mouth and beamed instead. He was ridiculously happy. Harry slowly smiled also, feeling warmth blossom through his stomach. He was happy that Godric was happy. His enthusiasm was catching. For a second Godric leaned so close they could've kissed and Harrys mouth went dry. The warmth transformed into butterflies that crawled their way out of his stomach and up towards his heart.

The moment passed when Harry was secured in a life endangering hug. He hoped that Godric couldn't feel how fast his heart was beating.

Harry spent the rest of Sunday being hugged by Godric. The sudden influx of positive physical contact had his head reeling. They stayed all day in the professors rooms, eating what a house elf brought for them. With Harrys apparent conversion to Godrics side of the argument, he was in a stupendous mood. He was normally a fairly happy man, barring his time spent as a painting, but now he was ecstatic. He was also very touchy feely. He knew Harry had an aversion to touch, and it was no wonder, but he was usually fine with being touched by Godric. So Godric exploited this an much as possible. Hugging Harry constantly, brushing their hands together, walking inside Harrys personal space zone. Godric did honestly hope that this would improve their friendship, rather than drive a wedge between them. But as long as Harry assumed all the physical contact was platonic, Godric figured that he was safe.

Harry, meanwhile, actually didn't mind the physical contact that much. It was Godrics damned smile that made his stomach flutter. Godric was just smiling at him, like they shared some type of secret. They did, of course, but that was beside the point. Everything Godric was doing made butterflies appear in his stomach and put his heart somewhere in the vicinity of his throat. Harry honestly didn't understand. What was happening? Was he sick? Should he ask Godric about it, or just tell the man to stop. But what would he ask Godric to stop? Stop smiling? Stop being so wonderful and happy? He couldn't ask Godric to do either of those things, because asking that would be like asking Godric to stop being, well, Godric. He was so confused.

He didn't even know what this feeling was. Was it normal? Fearing that it wasn't a normal feeling, he didn't tell Godric about it. Didn't mention it at all. He pushed the feelings and thoughts to the back of his mind to think about later. The butterflies wouldn't be dislodged, however, and he couldn't convince his heart to move back into the right place, so he'd tackle those at some other time. He refocused his attention on Godric, rather than the pesky internal malfunctions, and continued to relax and enjoy the day.

His relaxation was shattered halfway through the afternoon, however, when Hermione knocked on Godrics door. She was frantic. She couldn't find Harry anywhere. She was too worried to even admire the fact that he most handsome professor was only in a pair of tights! And then she spotted Harry sitting peacefully in Godrics living room. She instantly became a raging monster, filled with worry and concern. She'd been looking for him all day, only to be told by a Hufflepuff that he'd left some time the previous night and hadn't returned. Harry was sorry for worrying her, but Godric regretted his happiness in the face of her worry when she rounded on him.

Spouting various rules and regulations which prohibited an underage student from being anywhere near the inside of a professors rooms. Only his office was allowed, apparently. After she calmed down, she spent the rest of the day with them. She noticed, but didn't mention, that there was a new dynamic between them. She had some suspicions as to what it might be, especially with the amount of physical contact that Godric was being allowed and the fact that she could see the unmade bed from where she was sitting, but held her tongue.

For now, at least.


End file.
